Fia Friday: Babes In The Bayou

Friday, November 30th, 2012

Before Thanksgiving I took the kids on my own (gasp. Read about my horrendous challenging trip down there) to see my Baba Yaga (Aunt Nancy) outside New Orleans.

Emmett had never been to her place on the bayou, but Fia had. When she was 18 months I took her down there. What a difference another 18 months makes. The first time around she almost murdered Peg and Peepers, the lovebirds. This time it was far different. She took poor little crippled Peeps under her proverbial wing. Every morning all she wanted to do was hold him, lie with him, put him on her head…you know, all the normal things people do with birds.

Granted, at times she accidentally put him in a chokehold, but alas, he did survive. And not just barely…like last time. My tot is growing up and she is learning what it really means to be gentle (sorry, I’m getting mushy with her 3-year birthday on Sunday).

Oh, there were other things too…the stuff of the swamps.

Frogs…

And lizards…

And giraffes. Wait? Huh?

The giraffes are one of 3000 animals on 900 acres of land at the Global Wildlife Park. I would say it was amazing, but, well, we did think at one point we might not survive. Baba has a bad shoulder. Emmett is 9 months old. And in our private tour we took– which consisted of a flatbed pick-up with some benches and rails but nothing else–there were moments of sheer pandemonium…and a little fear that we might get eaten, or more realistically, bitten, by a zebra…or five. We didn’t realize that by taking the private tour, you get so up and close and personal, you may not make it out alive. At least if you’re with tiny tots.

Oh, and I should also mention who our guide was: an 18-year-old kid who clearly never had been around babies, at least not while four-wheeling. He was tossing us all over the place. We would be screaming in the back as we got pushed from side to side. I’d be holding onto Emmett for dear life, while trying to fight off buffalo mouths full of saliva on one-side and elk antlers nearly blinding us on the other. All the while he’d be up front, gassing the engine and yelling to us about the difference between a black duck and a camel. Or something to that effect. I honestly didn’t hear a word he said.

All he told us before he took off was, “Zebras bite, elk have antlers that can maim and the giraffes like to get into your space.” Then he plopped a huge bucket of corn down, gave us some cups to throw feed out, and went flying. By the end, we were covered in corn dust and spit from many species and utterly tuckered. I wish I could post the video…but technology isn’t my forte and I could barely keep my son alive, much less capture pictures to show the chaos that ensued.

That day was about the perfect example of how Baba and I roll. Just like we did on our Kilimanjaro adventure…laughed through the hazardous feat. Like I said before, no one quite “gets” us, but that’s the way we like it. I do think Fia is going to have that same kindred spirit with us. And Emmett, well he just goes with everything. BEST BABY EVER. And a reminder that there’s never a dull moment in the Bayou with Baba.

Why the Boob Rocks

Tuesday, May 8th, 2012

My boobs have become a secret weapon in survival. And not just because they feed my child.

When Fia came, it was all me all the time. I was drowning in her barf and tortured from lack of sleep. I became resentful that everything was put on me, even though yes, I am the mom.

Flash forward to Emmett. I am the picture of calm. That’s not an adjective you would typically use to describe me. But between hypnotherapy and the beauty of the boob, it’s a totally different scenario the second time around. Phil on the other hand seems to have postpartum frustration. He stomps around; I sit in lotus. He’s angry; I meditate. Here’s what shifted:

Fia’s melting down at dinnertime? Sorry honey, I gotta go feed Emmett.

Fia’s awake at 5:51 every morning? Sorry honey, Emmett’s hungry.

When you have the second baby, the parenting of the toddler falls more on the dad. Or at least in our house. I’m not kidding when I say that I get an extra hour-plus of sleep every morning because of this. AN HOUR. PLUS. Do you understand what that means? That’s like winning the lottery every day. I lay in bed with my little man as he nurses and we drift off to sleep. It’s heaven.

Cut to Phil downstairs with Fia screaming for Elmo, spilling orange juice and crying for eggs (Phil hates eggs and can’t make them. He claims he will barf. And we have enough barfing in our family with Em’s reflux).

At around 7 or 7:30 (the latter if I’m feeling greedy), I serenely float down and take over. Phil goes back to bed for an hour. I cook eggs, clean up the OJ and read the paper. I hold Emmett and Fia watches Sesame. Or we all play. It’s great. And to be fair, Phil wakes back up refreshed. Don’t feel too sorry for him–I’m not killing the guy.

At night, as Phil is trying to get Fia to eat, I’m sitting in the living room, a glass of wine in hand, watching the news, nursing my boy. Ahhhh… this is the life!

I’m lucky to have such a hands-on husband. I don’t know what I would do if he weren’t. But I wouldn’t have married someone who didn’t look at our relationship as a partnership of equals. I will admit that the scale is tipping a bit more in my favor lately.  I’m taking it–guilt free. I carried these babies for 10 months. I endured another c-section. And I know that eventually everything circles back to the mom. This is a temporary reprieve.

When Emmett’s reflux started to increase last week I panicked. Not only because I want to breastfeed him for health reasons, but for my own personal Zen. Hell, if I keep getting these kinds of breaks, I might breastfeed him until he’s 4. Or 14.

So for all you moms out there expecting baby #2, this is my big secret—use the boob. It’s survival for us. And justified because it’s also survival for your baby.  Nothing wrong with that.

Top 5 Pregnancy Brain/Irrational Fear Moments–What Are Yours?

Wednesday, January 25th, 2012

While I’m having a baby pulled out of my belly (not my vag–by choice), I figured I’d schedule a post for fun. Don’t worry, I did this before I went to the hospital. They aren’t allowing me to blog in the Operating Room!

1. Looking for my sunglasses while they’re on my head.

2. Looking for my cell phone while I’m talking on it.

3. Running into a cabinet and breaking my nose (that was my first pregnancy with Fia).

Not a pretty sight

4. Running into a cabinet and giving myself a black eye (that was this pregnancy—a few weeks before delivery. No photo unfortunately.)

5. Irrational Fear of Spiders.

Also: Breaking countless bowls, wineglasses (maybe because I’m bitter since I can’t drink?), and dishes.

Parents did a funny bit on this subject you can link to here. Tell me your best baby-brain moments!

Milestone Monday: Food Dilemma: I’m Doing it All Wrong–Except I’m Not

Monday, January 2nd, 2012

Author’s Note: Join me every Monday as I share Fia’s ongoing milestone (mis)adventures–from potty training to talking to everything in between.  Mayhem and mischief guaranteed on Milestone Monday!

Eating her Arm, While Distracted by Computer. Whatever Works!

Let me first back up: A few days before our move to LA in October, I took Fia to the pediatrician. I thought Wayne had accidentally scratched her eye, though nothing too severe (apparently a corneal scratch will take a 500-pound man to his knees, fyi. She was just a little whiny and occasionally would point to her eye and say “hurts”). Turns out, her eye was fine. But while I was there, the pediatrician asked about some other things, including Fia’s eating habits. I love Dr. Gold because she is a straight shooter. And her advice seems pragmatic.

I proudly told her our television was in transit and how I’ve turned to circus performing during meal times. I dance, I sing. I do anything to distract and shove food in. But I don’t turn on the television. This seemed a huge milestone to me.  She shook her head. Uh-oh, I thought.

(more…)

Milestone Monday: Too Much Hugging? (Operation Failure)

Monday, November 14th, 2011

Author’s Note: Join me every Monday as I share Fia’s ongoing milestone (mis)adventures–from potty training to talking to everything in between.  Mayhem and mischief guaranteed on Milestone Monday!

I think Operation Hugs and Snugs has become a failure. Not because it didn’t work, but because it worked too well. To summarize: Fia wasn’t a huge snugger in the beginning. But through army-like training, she became one.

Now, just two weeks shy of her 2-year birthday, I find her wanting to kiss and hug every child she plays with. She doesn’t stop there though. She literally hugs them so tight that she tackles them to the floor.  Now some tots seem to roll with it. Others not so much. And with this particular tot friend, Nate, she met her match. It was like watching two babies sumo wrestle.

The Wrestlers

I almost wonder if somehow I’ve encouraged this behavior, not only from smothering her myself (I can’t get enough of kissing her, and just found this article on the science of kissing), but also because of her relationship with Wayne Sanchez. We call her a barnacle baby. She latches onto him and doesn’t let go until one of us pulls her off, kicking and screaming. She’s like a magnet to living beings. A sweet leech, if there is such a thing.

An Incredibly Patient Wayne Sanchez

Not sure what to do about this. I tell her constantly to leave the cat alone; that he’s feisty. (She repeats after me, “feisty, feisty” but continues to cling, choke, and smother.)  I tell her that not all babies want to be clung to like a parasite. She burrows on in. I find myself apologizing to parents for her behavior, as their child wails and clings to them for dear life. The more they hide behind an adult or run away, the more she laughs and chases. Good god, what if she becomes a serial stalker? At the age of 2? At least I bet her mug shot would be cute…

Is this a milestone or madness? I know it’s maddening for me–and from the cries, I am guessing some of her tot friends feel the same.