Resistance is Futile
Ever since that cold, harsh sponge-bath he was subjected to in the hospital, Porter has welcomed baths with about as much excitement as would a cat. Luckily for us, newborns only have to be bathed every couple of days or so – something that we have routinely stretched to the edges of the “or so” part. Likewise, it is practically a two-person job to change his diaper: one to hold the bottle in his mouth, and one to change the diaper. The dude just hates being cold.
We have managed to get better at minimizing his agony during diaper change time [which partly came out of necessity of trying to get one diaper off and the other on in record time to reduce the opportunity for the pee shower], and finally he seems to be coming around to the bath idea as well.
Pensive
Finding His Happy Place
Playing Along
Resignation
Chaos and Sanity in Peaceful Coexistence
Porter’s current repertoir includes: sleeping, eating, not sleeping, marathon hiccuping, crying, perfecting his aim in long-distance projectile spitting and peeing all over the place each time his diaper is being changed. Not bad for being just short of 2 weeks old.
(you can either click here, or on the photo to see the Porter Portfolio: Week 1)
It is so hard to remember exactly when Stella settled down into a regular sleep-wake cycle, which makes it that much more difficult to feel optimistic that our sleep schedule will find a rhythm anytime soon. Thankfully, Stella has been a champ at sleeping through all the late-night activities – a miracle, considering we are up no less than 4 times a night. My mantra of late: although things are crazy, they could be SO much worse.
We have had to resort to some less than desirable tools in our attempts at maintaining sanity, and Stella has watched Toy Story roughly 67 times in the short period since receiving it on Easter. I have even been so desparate as to try to buy her a new video (Shrek) so we don’t have to hear “To Infinity and beyond!” one more time, but she would have none of it. It’s Toy Story or it’s nothing. End of story.
Through all this insanity I have been somehow able to recognize – and revel in – some of the finer moments, the kind of moments that give me hope that I have not yet reached the dead end of Sanity Avenue. Like when Stella and I sat quietly on the kitchen floor sharing a peanut butter sandwich, or getting to sit with Porter propped up in front of me watching him try to focus his little eyes on the mini-blinds behind my head. And then there was the brief glimpse of normalcy I witnessed this past week when, on one of our rare sunny days, we had the house opened up and the radio on, Stella was running in and out, and Steve and I were cooking in the kitchen while I wore Porter in the sling, nestled contently against my chest. A moment that made me realize just how worth it it all really is.
Multi-task or die.
Okay, so I’m back. If there is one thing I have learned over the last couple of weeks it is that hell hath no fury like my readership after 3 or 4 days of no new posts. So, on with the show.
Although we have yet to really settle in on a new daily routine (we have had houseguests for the week) I can tell that the next weeks are going to be critical in terms of my efficacy as mother as well as my ability to supress my urges to curl into a fetal position on the floor. No longer do I have the luxury of dealing with a tempestuous 2-year-old mano a mano. In the circus that is my world, I have voluntarily chosen to go from just a regular old juggler to a flaming knife juggler. Be prepared to see me put my eye out and set my hair on fire. Over and over again.
It’s hard to tell at this point if it is a long-term phase or a transient one, but Stella has become more and more resistant to the idea of napping. So far this week, there was a day where she went without a nap entirely (by 7:00 her head was spinning in circles and she was speaking in tongues), one day where I spent the better part of an hour-and-a-half negotiating with her to go to sleep (the gutteral yells could be heard in the neighboring county) and a day where Grandma Judy had to read to her for 45 minutes. Although her regular naptime is 12:30, there has not been a day in the last 7 where she has gone to sleep before 2:00. It’s as though all this indoctrination into big-sisterhood has clouded her mind with thoughts that she is exempt from the usual toddler by-laws. Note to Stella: your timing is impeccable.
Monday will mark the official first day of my job as flaming knife juggler. I will be faced with the task of single-handedly wrangling a non-compliant toddler to nap while also holding and/or feeding a newborn. Throw in the fact that I will need to fit in pumping and eating lunch and you are bound to see me down for the count with the curtains on fire and knives lodged in the ceiling.
And then there were four
Is there someone who could explain to me why babies come straight from the factory defaulted to nocturnal mode, leaving parents to have to spend the first month rewiring them? I would like to have a sit-down with the head of the product design department on who thought up this particular feature…and smack them around a little.
Aside from the sleeping glitches, Porter is awesome in about every other way. We are busy teaching him parlor tricks, and some basic survival skills like how to play blackjack and how to heat food on the manifold of a car. We suspect he will be a real renaissance man.
We have finally managed to get Stella to stop calling him Quarter and start calling him Porter, and are so pleased that she has exhibited nothing but love and sweetness towards him from the first moment she laid eyes on him. Being the yuckster she is, she is constantly is trying to tickle him and I know it is only a matter of time before she starts him in on her knock-knock jokes. Maybe someday they will take their act on the road.
After taking Porter in for his first official doctor visit today, I was informed that he still weighs nine and a half pounds. The doctor indicated that most newborns lose weight quickly after birth, and take about 10 days to get back to their original birth weight. I swore up and down that we hadn’t been feeding him Oreos and french fries and that, due to some breastfeeding issues, he had even experienced a 12-hour stretch where he hadn’t consumed a single ounce of anything. You’d think I’d be used to this kind of thing by now.
Thanks again to all of you who have sent along your good wishes and generous gifts. We feel very lucky to have such a supportive group of friends and family.
(click either here or on the photo to see a quick round-up of photos from Porter’s grand arrival)