Reward at last!

I got my first smile today!!

A love affair

Somewhere in the back of a factory, dozens of high-paid specialists in white lab coats are designing hundreds of stuffed toys with big eyes and bright contrasting colors, perfectly suited for the development of a newborn. Companies like Lamaze and Baby Einstein are making millions selling these creations to new, gullible moms like me who hang them from strollers and car seats and cribs and shake them around in front of our babies hoping to stimulate their little minds. I must have almost $100 worth of developmental toys laying around this house. So what does Sawyer like best? Which toy does he turn to every time he's awake? The ceiling fan. That's right. He has eyes for only one member of this family – I wouldn't have considered the fan a "family member" before, but now I think we are going to have to take it with us when we move. He won't look at me and smile, but he'll smile at the damn ceiling fan. In fact, the only thing I would suggest a new mom register for is a ceiling fan in every room. Sometimes, if the living room fan is off, I catch Sawyer staring at it hard, with the same red face and grunting expression he gets on his face when he's trying to poop. Only, I think he is mentally willing the fan to start moving. It works, of course, because I get up and turn the fan on and then – presto – his face relaxes. He thinks he has used The Force. I put him down on the floor under his specially-designed gymboree with bright toys dangling from every corner and he cries. I put him down on a blanket under the moving fan and he's entertained for an hour. Bright florescent lights and daylight windows take a close second. What, I wonder, does this say about the mental genius of my son?

By the way, Scott slipped the bib into the cart at Wal-Mart last night.

WSP - 5 weeks

The truth

Some days are more like this:

stupid astronomers

I can't believe they took away Pluto.
It has always been my favorite planet: not only was a Disney character named after it, but it's the underdog of the celestial world – cold, tiny and overlooked for so many centuries. And, in diagrams, it's always purple – a good color for a planet to be.
Alas, poor Pluto has been demoted to little better than a comet or moon.
The Air and Space Museum exhibit that has remained unchanged since my childhood will have to be completely revamped; the "Family of the Sun" song rewritten. (What rhymes with Dwarf Planet UB313?)
But, worst of all, Justin's room will have to be redecorated. 'From the model solar system that hangs from the ceiling to the sheets on the bed, his whole room is now ... wrong.
I think next time around we'll choose a decorative theme with fewer probable "discoveries."

Cruisin'

We drove to Ikea in Woodbridge Wednesday evening to buy cabinets ... after all that at Lowes (see "Restoration" below ) we decided to go with Ikea cabinets. Since we needed to be able to pick the cabinets up and drive them home, Scott suggested we take the dump truck. We're talking about a full-scale International with not one but TWO steps up into the cab. He was proposing that we saddle up into a veritable semi for a two-hour drive north with the baby in his car seat. The dump truck's stellar suspension system is so bouncy that we could charge admission for a ride at the county fair. Despite my protests, we ended up making the trip in Big Red. With his little brain rattling around in his skull, Sawyer slept the whole way. The best part, however, was pulling into the "family parking only" spot right in front of the Entrance at Ikea. A whole line of mini vans and then our dirt-caked behemoth. I am still kicking myself for not snapping a shot. I am tempted to make a repeat trip just for the photograph.

WSP - 1 Month Photo

One month milestones

WSP: 1 month
10 pounds, 10 ounces (75th percentile for weight)
23 inches (90th percentile for height)

Today is officially Sawyer's one month birthday. He celebrated by watching TV for the first time. I didn't really expect it to work, but I popped in a Baby Einstein DVD and the little guy was instantly transfixed. I propped him up in his chair and he watched, kicked and cooed at the TV for about seven minutes before he lost interest. In baby land, that's a long time. Until now, his attention span has been about two minutes. The movie plays Bach and flashes bright and simple images across the screen. It's EDUCATIONAL.

W.S. hit several other major milestones this morning. I put him down on a blanket to take some photos and rather than getting frustrated in about one second, he was kicking and cooing and entertaining himself while I took 50 pictures. The cooing is supposed to be a major developmental step. From what I could tell, he was just talking to himself, but its amazing how thrilling that can be. Then, I put him on his stomach and he turned his head from one side to the other to check out the view on either end. I was so proud! Okay, don't laugh. This may seem relatively boring, but to a new mom, its monumental. Watching TV, cooing and moving around independently – this is all a promise that my little milk guzzling baby blob will someday have personality and will be interested in something other than my boobs.

Page 238 of my "Baby Bible" states that a baby's personality reveals itself through the qualities that develop first, since every baby develops at a different rate.

"Babies often send the first clue that they're going to be more active than most right from the uterus; suspicions are confirmed soon after birth when receiving blankets are kicked off, diapering and dressing sessions become wrestling matches and baby always ends up at the opposite end of the crib after a nap."

This describes Sawyer perfectly. The book adds that active babies can be challenging because:

"They sleep less than most, become restless when feeding and can be extremely frustrated until they're able to be independently mobile."

Yup. The upside is that they are alert, adventuresome and quick to learn. And, as long as we keep him strapped in and tied down to avoid injury, everything should be okay.

Looks like Sawyer is well on his way to becoming a kickin' snowboarder, skier and surfer! Still working on that first smile though, and if he flashes it at anybody other than me, they're dead meat. (p.s. Scott, yawns don't count).

Restoration

Scott and I had to go shopping for the new house yesterday, which meant taking the first of many trips to Lowe's in Tappahannock. We needed to order kitchen cabinets and purchase fixtures for the plumber. It seemed like a simple enough mission. We headed out around 11 a.m. and stopped at Lowery's for lunch and then continued to the Lowe's cabinet department. Following the typical negotiations that occur when two minds must make one decision, we picked three cabinet styles to price. We then had to sit down with our Lowe's cabinetry sales representative, Dave, who would help us design our kitchen and order the right cabinets all with the help of his trusty computer. The process would take hours, he warned, but the cabinets could take more than a month to be delivered so we wanted to complete the process.
Scott plopped himself on down and began plugging away at measurements with Dave. I felt a little more reluctant about embarking on this process with Sawyer in tow.
To fully understand the situation, you must know that Sawyer has been boycotting sleep during the day this week, which has me a little concerned about my future as a work-from-home mom. He falls asleep in my arms but as soon as I put him down he wakes up and fusses. This pattern continued as we worked with Dave. Sawyer would pass out, I would put him back in the stroller and two minutes later he would start crying. Then one of us would walk around the store attempting to calm him down, he would eventually pass out and the cycle would repeat itself.
To add icing to the cake, Sawyer was spitting up profusely. Every time I fed him, he would return the meal to me, in small portions, for the next half hour. Throughout the day, spit up streamed into every chubby roll under Sawyer's chin, onto his shirt and twice in large quantities onto my designer jeans. He soaked through three onesies and two spit up rags. At one point, as I was trying to calm him down holding him against my chest, he spit up down the front of my tank top - right down the middle. A sticky white river streamed all the way down to my belly button.
And, if you haven't gagged yet, he also blew out of his diapers twice.
Old Dave was a trooper. He plugged along on the computer through all of this, tactfully ignoring the boob, tears and drool. After three hours, I could take it no more. I went to the car to change Sawyer and feed him - I'd already taxed Dave's sensibilities once feeding Sawyer in front of him, I couldn't bring myself to do it again. As I returned, I saw Scott stand up shaking his head. Just as Dave was preparing to print out the pricing, his computer program crashed and he lost everything. He would have to start over from scratch. My head began to buzz from the florescent lights. My tongue went dry. The soda machines were all out of order. Washers, dryers and carpet samples began to swirl together before my eyes. I was in box store hell.
We left Dave to reconstruct the wheel and headed off to plumbing where we spent another three hours picking out a tub, faucets, toilets and sinks. Scott builds houses for a living and deals with customers who must make these kind of decisions on a daily basis but, let me tell you, he was overwhelmed. His head began to swim as I asked him about countertops and floor tile – there is a lot of coordinating to do after all. Everything has to be visualized, preconceived down to the last detail. There are hundreds, no, thousands of decisions to be made, and every one seems monumental.
I finally entered a decision making zone where I just pointed to something and said, Get that, or, I like that one. Our cart started filling up.
By the time we made it to the checkout line we still had only half of the necessary fixtures for the bathrooms and kitchen and no cabinets on order. Sawyer had decided enough was enough and was now fully wailing his most terrifying newborn cry. Some little guy came up to me and said, "In Italy we don't take them out of the house until they are six months old." It took two checkers and three sales associates to get us out the door and loaded up.
Sawyer cried for about 10 minutes (then Sarah Q's magic Hush Baby CD worked its magic and he fell asleep).
Once home, I had to bathe us both to rid us of three inches of slime and spit up. Scott gave him a bottle (our new evening routine in preparation for me working again), and the little guy finally calmed down. I plopped him in his swing around 10:30 and fell into bed.

*******

I woke up with a start. I looked at the clock. It was 3:30 a.m. Scott, I said, waking him up, Sawyer's still asleep (again, guilt about leaving him in the swing.) Check on him, Scott mumbled. I touched Sawyer's cheek. He moved his head and make some squeaky sounds. Oh, now I've woken him I thought. I turned the swing off, ready to pick him up, but stopped myself. Maybe I'll just wait until he cries. I fell back into bed and passed out.
5:30 a.m. I woke with a start again. He's still sleeping! HE SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT!!!
I know not to get too excited about this, because two new-mom friends have reported that this is not a permanent situation. A fluke. A freak occurrence. The stress of ordering cabinets.
I've never felt so rested. He has slept all day! I've finally caught up on laundry and thank you notes and cleaning.
Balance has been restored to the universe, at least for now.

Taming the Wild Beast

My mother is very into this concept of playing Mozart to the baby. She says it increases IQ. Any old classical music won't do, she says, it must be Mozart. So far, she has offered no explanation as to why Mozart in particular holds this power over the likes of Beethoven and Bach, or even Jon Bon Jovi for that matter. If only Amadeus knew when he wrote the first movement of his Sonata in C or the third movement of his Sonata in A that yuppie mothers across the First World – who wouldn't willingly listen to his symphonies for most of their young adult lives – would someday blast Eine Kleine Nachtmusik across the living room with hopes that junior may someday win a scholarship to Harvard (oh, never Yale). Of course, Mozart could never have conceived of Ipods and speaker systems and while he wrote his first symphony at the age of five, it probably wasn't considered appropriate to plop the babe in the Bjorn and haul him off to a "show" in those days. I must conclude that any IQ-increasing qualities were purely coincidental. So, per my mother's instructions, I am currently playing Mozart while Sawyer clings to my shoulders and I type (must multitask these days). I watch closely to see how Sawyer reacts – perhaps I can witness the mental development in action. He is drooling all over the sleeve of my red silk pajamas. He seems to have mistaken my shoulder as a source of food. He is, in fact, leaving a slime trail of chunky white slobber everywhere he moves his mouth. There is a phenomenal amount of saliva being produced here. My entire shoulder is soaking wet. He is now letting out a high pitch squeal of protest, having found no food in the shoulder region. Hmmm, not exactly a genius yet. I decide to conduct an experiment.* I pop in some Kenyan tribal hymns. Sawyer sits content in my lap sucking on a Nuk and staring at the ceiling. He is drifting off. He is asleep. Yippee. I'm off to take a shower. Now THAT's genius.
*This experiment is neither scientifically sound nor fair.

Can you swing it?

So, it doesn't exactly fit in with our decor, but the aquarium swing is our new favorite piece of furniture. It's been a close race these last few weeks between the swing and the Baby Einstein bouncing/vibrating chair, but the swing has taken a clear lead recently due to its ability to make Sawyer sleep for four hours straight.
Scott has expressed some concern about whether it is advisable to allow a three-week-old to swing back and forth at Mock 7 for hours on end. I saw no warning signs on the instructions.
I am actually amazed by the things we do with our newborn. Friends come over, wash their hands and VERY carefully pick the baby up supporting his head in a perfect cradle.
Scott and I carry him around one handed, stuffing a pacifier in his mouth that has fallen on the floor five times and jiggling him so that his head shakes back and forth like one of those bobble-headed dolls in the back of low-rise Pontiac.
Before you go calling social services, a book actually told us to do this. When the baby gets fussy, you swaddle him so tight in a blanket that he screams, turn him on his side, stuff a pacifier in his mouth, go "SHHHHHHHH" as loud as possible directly in his ear and then jiggle him like Jello. It may sound like child abuse, but the results are phenomenal. Like a switch being flipped the baby stops crying.
Scott does this other thing that actually kind of terrifies me where he folds the baby in half to make him fart.
Gas is a newborn parent's greatest obstacle. We seem to be constantly trying to expel it at one end or the other. I do this milkshake maneuver where I more or less toss the baby in the air a few times to make the gas bubbles rise to the surface and then I burp him. Picking him up by the torso or slinging him across a knee or shoulder seems to work well too.
So now that you are all horrified, let me just say that we may not sterilize his bottles in boiling water or change his diaper in the middle of the night and - in a pinch - we may use a blanket or the onesie he's wearing to clean spit up, but I happen to think we a doing a rather fine job with this kid, even if we do let a swing do the baby sitting.

There's a first time for everything

This was a weekend of firsts. It was Sawyer's first trip to our nation's capital. He visited his first museum (Air and Space). It was my first time changing his diaper in a public restroom. I fed him in public under the shield of a cloth diaper for the first time. We busted out the stroller for the first time and we all took turns pushing it.
At three weeks, our little man remains a good traveller. He slept for the whole 2-hour ride up to DC, the whole ride home, through a two-hour Home Depot shopping spree and through 15 Apollo missions at the Air and Space Museum. I am pleased with how well we are both adjusting (and still grateful for that magical white noise CD from Sarah Q.)
Speaking of Sarah Quainton, she and her husband Cap Poehner have graciously agreed to be Sawyer's godparents along with longtime friend Jen Randall and her soon-to-be husband John Kim. Both ladies have been practically family since high school and will be attending Sawyer's Christening in September to make it official. I have been blessed with such amazing godparents and, while these couples have big shoes to fill, I know they are up to the challenge.
We bid a tearful farewell to Justin Saturday. He returned to Cali where he starts school in two weeks. I will especially miss him since he has been such a big help with his baby brother. He always jumped to open doors for me or bring me the phone when it started ringing while I was feeding Sawyer. He took out the trash, made his own breakfast and lunch, cleaned his room, helped me change and bathe the baby, babysat while I took a shower ... really it bordered on child slave labor, however we did teach him a little about the benefits of capitalism with a generous $5 per week allowance (inflation!).
I can hardly believe I only have three weeks of maternity leave left!

The Double Backflip Cake

Justin's Girls


Sawyer Steals Attention

Proud Dad

Justin Age 9


The young man who has given me all of my parenting practice for the last five years turns 9 next week. To celebrate, we threw a small pool party for him last night.
(Note: He dreamed of a big party .... inviting everyone he knows ... and lots and lots of presents, but Scott and I were hell-bent on going to the beach for our last weekend with Justin so we forced a compromise. We took the beach trip in lieu of the big party last weekend. In turn, I stayed up until 11 pm baking cupcakes Monday night, which he took to the sitters Tuesday to share with a gaggle of friends; Scott stayed up until 11 pm baking and decorating a cake Tuesday night for a pool party Wednesday, and Justin will still get to have a party next week when he goes home to his mom's house.)
Scott outdid himself with the cake this year. He's decorated some remarkable cakes over the year's, but the challenge this time was to build the ultimate "Travis Pastrana Double Backflip Cake." While at the beach, the boys had access to TV and watched the X Games. They were particularly excited about watching the motorcross tricks and, while Justin passed out, Scott got to witness Pastrana perform the first-ever competition double backflip on a dirt bike. Even for a non-motorcycle-loving person like myself it was incredible to watch (primarily because this guy would have died had he messed up). Justin was able to catch the replays the next day and it's all the boys talked about for the rest of the trip.
So, of course, when it came to decorating a cake, it had to be the "Double Back Flip Cake." Scott not only baked the cake and decorated it with the semi-official X-Games logo, but found a Travis Pastrana action figure and rigged him up mid-flip. Both of his sons are lucky to have such a talented father.
I am looking forward to many more confectionary creations in the future.
Not one to be upstaged, Sawyer FINALLY lost his umbilical cord stump last night. Justin buried it in the back yard.
I am looking forward to giving him his first real bath. He's bound to like them just about much as his older brother who throws himself on the floor in despair at the mere mention of a shower.

Acne and outfits

Now that Sawyer is in his teens – he is 19 days today – he is struggling with all the standard traumas of adolescence. The biggest decision he has to make every morning is 'What to Wear.' He has drawers full of insanely cute clothes sized 0-3 months, all of which are still too big. Fortunately, the baggy look is in. He thinks he looks pretty 'dope' with his trousers hanging three inches below his diaper line. Frankly, I am concerned he is going to suddenly outgrow everything before he even grows into it. We have so many clothes for him (mostly hand-me-downs from Dawn's three boys), that if Sawyer wore a different onesie every day for the next three months, I still don't think he would have worn everything in his dresser.
The other plague of the teens is acne... in this case, baby acne. Caused by sweat glands opening and mom's hormones, most babies breakout right around the time you want to take them to meet the work colleagues or head to the studio for portraits. Sadly, Noxema is not approved for use by children under 6 months of age, so the only weapon we have to battle these pimples is plain water and a washcloth. It takes all my willpower to not try to pick at his little whiteheads. Happily, the situation should clear up soon. (The 20-somethings and 30-somethings are just around the corner.)
Sawyer also has a underage drinking problem. Like most teen drinkers, he doesn't seem to know when to say when. Following a night of heavy drinking, he swaggers around milk-drunk and pukes. At least he manages to keep a smile on his face in the process. We'll be keeping an close eye on that tendency.
Speaking of smiles, my whole goal in life is to make Sawyer smile back at me. It's about time I get some reward for all this hard work. According to my baby instruction manual (aka: What to Expect in the First Year), lucky parents get a smile in return from their baby by the end of the first month. So I spend most of Sawyer's waking moments ten inches from his face saying "hi" in a tiny little voice with a big smile on my face. Don't let the photo fool you. So far, I have achieved nothing. All I get is the involuntary smile he makes while passing gas ... typical teenage boy.

Explosion!!!

The first week at home without a parent to help:
A bomb has gone off in my living room. Whatever semblance of control or organization I had maintained over the past two weeks has been lost. Sawyer has sworn off sleep today, which is good news for tonight but bad for the to-do list. Justin leaves on Saturday. To celebrate his pending birthday, I made cupcakes at 10 p.m. last night (after attempting to attend a book club meeting with the baby) and took them to the sitters so he could party with his friends. This morning, cupcake pans fill the sink. Icing-coated spatulas are stuck to the countertops. The dishwasher needs to be emptied. Clothing and bags from the beach trip cover the floor, making walking difficult. Sand has infiltrated every crevice of our lives. Dirty laundry needs to be washed before sending him home, but last week's clean laundry needs to be folded first. Another cake needs to be baked tonight for the pool party tomorrow. The poor neglected dogs are almost out of food and bugs are floating in their water bowl. And all I can do is sit here and feed Sawyer (typing one handed), who is staring back at me bright-eyed. How can a mother ignore that? Gotta go coo at the baby. The to-do list will just have to wait.

Sawyer meets Surf, Sun, Sand

If somebody had told me a year ago that I would soon have human crap caked under my fingernails and not care about it, I would never have believed them. I probably would have gagged at the mere thought of it. Yet, there I was at the beach last weekend, two-week-old baby half-naked in my lap, poop splattered up his back, in his shorts, on the changing pad and, yes, under my fingernails and I never flinched.
For me, becoming a mom has been a pretty seamless transaction. It feels surprisingly natural. I have a fair bit of baby experience under my belt, but I was never one of those women who fantasized about having my own baby or enjoyed buying baby clothes for my friends' children. I always assumed I would have children someday, but that mental image never included a newborn.
Things have been going so well, however, I find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I did have a moment of panic our first day at the beach. Sawyer was laying on the mat under the umbrella in nothing but his diapers, and I was watching his little chest rise and fall as he panted slightly through an open mouth. It hit me for the first time just how fragile this little life is, and the feeling of responsibility welled up in my throat, overwhelming me. Sand stuck to his skin and his face. I wanted to brush it off but Scott wouldn't let me. I kept shifting bags around, trying to find the perfect balance between cooling breeze and sandstorm protection. I alternately checked his temperature, shifted wind-blockades and stared at him for five straight hours.
The next day, I had my act more together. Going to the beach is all about sand management. My new tactic was to keep the sand off him entirely, which I achieved with some success by converting his car seat into a beach lounger.
I also finally got into dressing him in all the fun baby surfer gear we have been given. He's plumping up nicely and the 0-3 month clothes are finally beginning to fit (see photos).
There was some question as to whether we would be able to make our annual camping trip to the beach at all this year. If Sawyer had been late, it couldn't have happened. As luck had it (and following several en utero mother-son discussions), he came early and we were able to squeeze the trip in prior to Justin's departure. Most of my friends said I was crazy for taking a two-week-old on vacation, and we got a startled look from strangers who stopped to ooh and ahh at the babe when they asked his age.
We said having a baby wouldn't slow us down. It has, however, made us rethink camping in a four-season, three-person mountaineering tent.
This year, we "camped" in the relative luxury of the beach side Comfort Inn.
Sawyer was a trooper. He slept well, never cried at night and – thanks to Sarah Quainton's gift of the "Hush Baby" CD – hardly cried on the 5-hour car ride.
Again, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
To explain the Hush Baby CD: I received this gift in the mail several days before departing on this trip and slipped it into the diaper bag. When we reached the Outer Banks, Scott and Justin ran into Wal-Mart to buy a window shade (the one we had registered for turned out to be worthless). I sat in the back of the car with Sawyer and he started fussing. Remembering the CD, I cracked the packaging and popped it in. Expecting ocean sounds or chirping frogs, I was surprised to hear a static-like vacuum cleaner white noise that is supposed to mimic the sound of the womb. Slightly grating, but it worked like magic. He stopped crying almost immediately.
The boys returned from the store minutes later and both winced when they opened the doors. "What's THAT?" they screeched. Scott turned the CD off immediately.
Our next stop an hour later was at the grocery store. This time I went in and left the boys in the car. When I returned ten minutes later, Scott was now in the back seat with the baby, both boys were staring into the car seat anxiously, and the Hush Baby CD was blasting over the speakers. The baby was staring at the ceiling, almost hypnotized. I just giggled. Scott didn't even look at me.
For the rest of our trip, if Sawyer made so much as a whimper, the boys grabbed the Hush Baby CD and stuck it in. It worked every time.
Thanks auntie Sarah!!! Our trip would never have been the same without your magic gift.
All-in-all the vacation was a success. Justin had a blast playing in the waves. Scott got some surfing in. Even Sawyer got his feet wet in the ocean.

Feelin' Sheepish

Sawyer only woke up once last night! He slept from 10 to 2 and then until 6 am. This, in "baby world," is a small miracle for a two-week old. We haven't figured out what the magic is (this has only happened once before). I think maybe its the sheep.... a stuffed animal given to us in duplicate at a baby shower (thanks Audrey and Gloria). The sheep looks like any other cuddly doll on the outside, but his secret is that he plays four distinct white noises: heartbeat, rain, ocean and whale. Since I got two of the exact same thing at my shower, one would figure it comes highly recommended. Yet, until last night, the wooly creature had maintained a purely decorative role in the corner of Sawyer's bassinet. Last night - following a desperate night of almost no sleep, I ventured to turn him on to the "heartbeat sound" while putting Sawyer down. My little guy slept for four hours straight. Only time will tell if the sheep holds the power or if we did something else unintentionally right - like keeping him awake for hours on end during the day or carting him around the carnival grounds in 95 degree weather in the baby bjorn. Whatever happened, and I intend to figure it out, I hope getting Sawyer to eventually sleep through the night turns out to be as simple as turning on a stuffed animal.

Big Foot

Long legs and big feet characterize this little one. I've decided he was a racehorse in a past lifetime. His legs never stop moving. They gallop. He makes little whinnies and neighs in his sleep. He busts out of every swaddle with a swift kick of the foot. To think he was moving like this inside of me less than two weeks ago ... it suddenly all makes sense. As to whether their personality en utero matches their personality in the world, I would say most definitly yes.