Nerdy Suburban Mom

Lillian has always had trouble napping when she’s not at school. Having other kids sleeping all around her is a good example. She was even so good at it that they let her sleep on a cot instead of in a portacrib before she was two years old, the typical age limit.

Unfortunately (well, perhaps fortunately), we don’t have hordes of preschoolers living in our house, and so weekend naps need to be done solo. And so we end up with weird stuff like…

The giraffe was the most surprising. Luckily it wasn’t the whole giraffe, just the leg (which, being Playmobil, is both durable and easy to put back on the toy). Still, she’s begun to rediscover the one-year-old’s habit of sticking everything in her mouth, and this example is more worrying than most examples I’ve noticed, because she very well could swallow something while she moves around in her sleep.

Reuven is now one month and two days old, so we decided it was a good time to introduce him to the idea of drinking from a bottle. I pumped three ounces of milk, and Lillian and Brett each got to feed him for a while.

Lillian seemed to enjoy it much more than Brett; not only is it not particularly new for him, but he was busy playing Final Fantasy XII. And he’ll be getting plenty of time with bottle feeding next week when I have to go back to work part-time…

This was the scene that greeted Brett this morning:

It’s actually pretty good artwork on the wall. Her typical pictures are just scribbles, and so the strange creature on the wall is innovative! And luckily, the walls are easy enough to wash. The ink on her legs was not coming off as easily, so she got to be tattooed for the day instead.

Brett is down in South Carolina for a few days to close on our new house, and I am utterly exhausted. Dealing with two children is difficult, although the day is made easier since Lillian is still going to preschool daily (to keep her socialized and mellow, and to keep me from going insane). Today’s worse than average, though; I didn’t get much sleep last night (Reu was fussy too regularly, then there was a thunderstorm so Lil needed to come in and sleep in my room, then I had to wake up to take her down to school…), and it turned out the closing attorney’s secretary had screwed up a Power of Attorney document that we needed since I wasn’t going to be physically present. She had to send a new copy, which I then had to take to get notarized (to the bank), then scan, then ship the physical original by overnight mail — and, cleverly, I decided to stop at the post office while I was in town at the bank, and didn’t realize until I was walking out that I probably should have taken the paper home first if I wanted a scan of it.

Duh.

It turned out that just knowing the document was on its way was sufficient. But I still wasn’t able to get any sleep; by the time all that had been sorted out, it was only two hours until I needed to pick up Lillian and I was too frustrated with Life, the Universe, and Everything that I just organized paperwork instead. Once she was home, of course, there’s no way I could get to sleep… but luckily, the forecast is for a clear night, and I expect very little trouble from either child. Cross your fingers.

Reuven is 7 pounds 13 ounces already — a pound over his birth weight. Considering how frequently he guzzles milk, and how long he sleeps, it isn’t terribly surprising. He already looks much sturdier than he did at birth!

Unfortunately, he also has terrible heat rash, especially on his face (which looks uncannily like acne, and makes one wonder just how bad his complexion will be as a teenager). He also has terrible eye “goop” in his left eye, apparently a result of vernix in the tear ducts. He also has a raspberry birth mark on the back of his neck… which won’t be problematic if we remember to style his hair appropriately to hide it.

All told, he’s completely healthy, all his bits are intact, and he’s growing well. Next appointment won’t be for another six weeks, and then he gets to begin the fun of vaccinations!

I couldn’t be more proud of the way Lillian is handling her new role as Big Sister. Of course, it’s not perfect. She does get upset that she isn’t getting as much attention as before, and that it is slower in coming. She’s also begun to dread being alone, which can include sitting at the dining room table by herself while everyone else is on the couch (ten feet away). But there’s a critical point which makes me feel better about this — she blames us for the perceived lack of interest, and doesn’t blame Reuven for drawing us away from her. I can tell because if she’s sobbing over a minor injustice, she will go to him, give him a big hug and kiss, and immediately begin to feel better.

Whenever I pick her up at school, the other kids (from 1 1/2 years old up to 4) crowd around wanting to hold him. Lil makes sure to point out that she is his big sister, and is very helpful and keeps him safe and happy, so she gets to hold him all the time. She also finds noises he makes to be uproariously funny: “Mommy, he BURPED! Mommy, he FARTED! Mommy, he said MNNnnnrrrggg!” (Such things are fascinating to toddlers. I find a fair amount of amusement in him myself, to be completely honest.)

The downside of her being so close to him: they will be more apt to team up against me and Brett, and they’re just smart enough for that to be very, very dangerous…

Most children don’t climb trees when they’re less than a week old. In this day and age, it’s possible many children never climb trees at all. This does not, however, apply to Altschul children; we intend to have them in as many trees as possible over the course of their lifetimes, starting as early as possible.

“Climb” is a bit of a stretch in this case, since Reuven is still not capable of holding his head up without help (and wasn’t even capable of staying awake for this photo session). But you get the idea…

Breastmilk-poo is sweet smelling, especially compared to formula-poo (or solid-food-poo!). I probably wouldn’t make perfume or potpourri from it, but it’s clean and baby-related. It brings home the emotional memory and feeling of cuddling, loving, sweet little infant who hasn’t yet learned that the word “no” could exist, and trusts and loves absolutely…(I do wish, though, it wasn’t quite so sticky! Every time he poos, it gets everywhere and clings to everything it touches. Meconium is worse, but there’s something about the consistency that is really icky. I thought a baby girl’s crevices would be tougher to keep clean, but with a baby boy it all gets under the scrotum and you have to move everything around to clean, all the time hoping he doesn’t decide he’d really like to pee before you’ve gotten a fresh diaper on.)

Right now, I feel completely awesome. The delivery went perfectly, he’s a good sleeper, I’ve gotten rest and am proud of myself and my family… I hope this feeling stays and doesn’t turn into depression. His smell is part of that good feeling. Unfortunately, there’s no way I can think of to have the smell of breastmilk-poo on hand regularly — can you imagine asking an aromatherapy professional to duplicate that scent?

Two weeks ago, Reuven’s 30-week ultrasound estimated his weight at just over 3 pounds. They also estimate that he’ll be just under 7 pounds when he’s born.

While I am fond of the idea of a small baby (as opposed to a 15-pounder, or the world-record heaviest viable baby on record: 22 lb 8 oz [Guinness Book of World Records]), I can’t help but be disturbed by the idea that my stomach is going to double in size in the next six weeks. It already hurts.

In a spirit of patience and humility, however, I have decided to look forward to the day AFTER he is born, when I will once again be able to roll over, hold more than a teaspoon of urine in my bladder, and walk without a waddle. (I just wish I was better at patience and humility.)