Sunday, November 29, 2009

Some More Pics of the Little Guy!

Say hello to the cutest kid ever!!

The cutest thing: here Colt is in his swing (sans the actual swinging motion - that seems to terrify him still!) and Griz lays there protecting him! We say, "Griz. Where's your baby? Get your baby!" and he runs over to him!

Colt loves sitting in his Bumbo chair in the kitchen while we cook.

This whole smiling thing is pretty new. He just started really doing it on purpose last week. Totally the cutest thing ever!

...and for Christmas I want a husband that can breastfeed.

Because, really, how could would THAT be? The genius idea came to me the other night during one of the many, many midnight feedings. There I was: propped up against the headrest of the bed, boppy pillow in place, feeding Colt, staring off into space and listening to my wonderful husband snore quietly in what looked like the most wonderful sleep of all time. I'll admit it: I was a little jealous - having just cleaned, diapered and fed the baby yet again, and preparing to spend a good 30-40 minutes having the marrow sucked from my bones while he, well, just slept.
So here I make my case for the breast feeding man: why in God's name would men HAVE nipples if they weren't meant to USE them? It's not like they're there for looks, right? It seems like the only good thing for men to do with them these days is pierce them which, in my opinion, would render them useless for breastfeeding anyway.
I suspect that in the early stages of genetic engineering a man (of course) was thinking to themselves, "Hmmm. I HATE getting up all the time in the middle of the night to feed the baby. If I somehow deleted the breastfeeding gene from my genome I would be totally off the hook with this one." And is was then, in a feat of engineering magic when men were genetically engineered to be unable to breastfeed. They still have the nipples so they look right, but the nipples themselves are rendered useless. Furthermore, I suspect that when said gene-deletion occured they also deleted the gene that codes for the ability to tell when the toilet paper is out, when a load of laundry needs done or the dishwasher unloaded.
So, Amy, if you're reading this: if you get your wife for Christmas I better wake up this Christmas morning and find a husband who makes breast milk. 

Friday, November 20, 2009

Midnight Play Time

Scene: Our bedroom, 2:30 am night before last.

After finishing yet another near-midnight feeding in complete auto pilot, I'm standing there over the bassinett with my eyes closed slowly rocking Colt back and forth in some semi-concious pattern.  Although I can tell he's not asleep he's fading fast and I think to myslef if I just keep my eyes closed a little longer I can somehow will him to sleep. Right. And what fairy tale world do I live in?

I've developed the incredible ability to actually sleep while I'm standing up. I know - yet another newly discovered talent. He's still a little fussy and not asleep, so I rouse myself awake and take a peek at him. And he was laying there, staring straight up at me with the biggest grin on his little face and when he saw that I was looking back down at him it set him off into total laughing hysteria. Apparantly when you're two months old laughing equates to sucking air in your mouth in order to make a noise while smiling as big as you can.
Absolutely. Fricking. Adorable.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

And THAT'S Why Babies Don't Wear Underwear

Last night after Colt's bath I had him layed out on the couch snapping up the cutest little onesie. I snapped from the neck down and was working my way up leg #1 when I think to myself, then (unfortunately) say out loud to Todd, "Isn't it weird that babies don't wear underwear?"
Which was promptly followed by laughing and then, "Um. They do. It's called a diaper."

And that's why it looked so weird. He didn't have a diaper on. Thank god for Todd pointing that one out. That could have been a REAL mess if he cut loose with one of those trademark bowel evacuation things. Close call. Way to go dad.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

One Last Kick In The Face.

I complained a lot when I was pregnant. A lot. I'll admit it. I complained about peeing all the time, the maternity clothes, the weight, the aches, the pains, the waking up in the night and so on and so on. However, I will say I got off pretty easy when it came to the whole childbirth thing. Planned C-section. Check in to the hospital, get an IV, get a shot, have a baby, go home. Not bad at all. Very few complaints.
I do however have one final complaint. As most of you have heard I no longer drive the spacious Range Rover due to mechanical malfunctions (see the previous blog) which means I'm back in the car. The sub-compact, really cool and sporty car of my dreams with a really little trunk with a big sub woofer in it. I spent nearly 3 hours last weekend attempting to stuff my somewhat large jogging stroller into the obviously much-to-small trunk and finally concluded it just wasn't possible to have both. The woofer had to go and Todd took it out - voila! The stroller fits now.
I think I've given a lot during this whole pregnancy/kid thing. Really. A lot. But the sub woofer? Come on. This is the one last cool thing I had. The one thing that screamed "You're hip. You're cool. You're in your 20's and loving life." And now that's gone too. Because, really, I had myself totally convinced it made me just a little cooler. Bummer dude.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Our First Road Trip and Overnight Stay!

This Friday I go back to work and wanted to get a trip in to see my best friend Amy down in Puyallup. Three hours in the car and a one night stay away from the comforts of our own home? Sure! Why not? Suprisingly enough Colt slept the entire way there. I was a little nervous since he had a long nap at grandma and grandpa's before I left, but he made it the whole way plus some!
We discovered right away I didn't pack enough clothes. Three changes is obviously not enough since he ripped through those in the first 4 hours we were there. There was the post-travel bowel explosion, the post-travel bladder evacuation, followed closely by the post-travel barf on everything episode. The barfing episode happened the moment we convinced Zoey, Amy's nearly 3 year old, to hold Colton while we snapped some cute pics. A little barf got on Zoey's shirt which upset her so much she said, "He's ready to get up. He's ready to get up and I need a new shirt. Get him up." And she didn't even get hit with any chunks. So, pretty much Amy spent her day off doing our laundry. We'll pack more next time!
At one point the house was packed with the perfect form of birth control: my 2 month old, Amy's friend Sharon's 3 month old, Zoey, and Alisa's two toddlers, Avelyn and Finley. The cyclone of kids running around wore Colton out and he slept most of the time we were there!
I had an awesome time and now know you have to pack WAY more clothes and WAY more diapers than you think you could possibly use.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Not Going To Be Sad To See This One Go...

We've been busy shopping for a new truck this week because I flat out refuse to drive the Range Rover after last week's "episode." I seem to have soooo many more problems driving that thing then Todd does. Seriously, it respects him. And it hates me, obviously.
So, a little history on the Range Rover: we purchased this car 2 years ago as a bigger, more reliable vehicle that could carry the dog, the stroller the baby, the groceries and tow a trailer. Plus it looked really cool and had tons of cool electronic features like air ride suspension, navigation and on and on..
When Colt arrived we decided it was easier if Todd took over driving the car and I took the RR. With all my time running around, jogging, shopping and shuttling it just seemed easier. Right.
I've been having small battles with the RR ever since I took possession of it. For instance, whenever I put the left turn blinker on the windshield wipers come on. And, sometimes when I'm driving it displays an "EAS Fault" and says "Slow to 35mph max." Hmm. That's nice. Then it will be totally normal after I restart it.
Well, last week on my way to mall walk (because thats what I do now. I've aged 30 years in the last 2 months.) with my mom, the dog, the baby and the stroller in the car, turning right on to a very busy road it started beeping and displayed "gearbox failure." WTF? What's a gearbox and why's is failing in the middle of the intersection?? Well, turns out the gearbox is directly related to the transmission. In other words: the part the makes the car go. The RR was running, stuck in the middle of the intersection, beeping and flashing "gearbox failure", and the engine would only rev when I pressed the gas. Super. Because there's nothing like being totally stranded with your mom, the dog and the baby! Not like we could all fit in the back of a tow truck.
 I managed to get 'er going and we limped to the mall. And, upon leaving the mall the RR would only make this weird clicking noise when I turned the key. I didn't leave the headlights on dome light on so this was most unexpected. I cranked and cranked and it finally fired up. I skipped the errands and headed straight home and half way there got the good old "EAS failure - slow to 35mph." Right on. This just kept getting better. And, oops...there go the windshield wipers again.
I spent the whole next day reorganizing the car and haven't driven the RR since. And I won't. It hates me, I swear.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

And Then There Was None

D-day was Monday. We all knew it was coming. We all knew they were livestock. This is a small farm with farm animals not pets. Cows are stupid and dirty. They make a mess out of your field. The pasture is destroyed in places and need to be reseeded. There is cow poop everywhere. We had to worry at times if the fence was on or if the bull got out with the neighbor girls. We got up at least twice in the middle of the night to see if the fence was on and went into the woods to see if they were all still on our property. We had to worry if they were getting enough food and water. When we went out of town we had to hassle the neighbors or the folks to watch them. Livestock are a hassle all around. #84 got sick his last two weeks and cost us $ 160 to try to make his last days more comfortable. Is that good husbandry? I don't know. But it was the right thing to do. So Monday we were all a little happy for them to go right? They will be providing cheap meat for are friends and family. We might be able to save a little money on meat now. They were just cows. If that was the case then why would we look out the kitchen window wanting to see them in the pasture? Hopefully the next group of cows will be just like these, just cows.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Oh...THAT Baby.

Yesterday before I started in on all my running around I treated myself to a latte at the local drive through espresso stand. I hate to admit it, but some of the reason I go through the drive through stand is because Griz loves it. They usually all have some kind of dog treat, and if you hit the right one, sometimes they have full sized dog bones; not the half sized ones for small dogs.
I pull through and order the usual: (what they often times refer to as the "why bother") single, tall, decaf, nonfat soy latte. The soy is a new change since I've (very painfully) cut dairy out to see if it helps with Colt's evening crying.
Anyway, the barista gives Griz a bone and comments on how cute he is. And who wouldn't, really? He props his chin up on the window and cocks his ears a little and gives you that, "Aren't I the cutest thing you've ever seen? Don't you want to give me a treat?"
Then she says, "How old is your baby?" and I reply, "Oh, he's going to be 8 next month." And she gave me the STRANGEST look.
Then I realize she's not talking about THAT baby...she's talking about THE BABY. Colton.
So, I quickly correct myself, "Oh, that baby. He's six weeks old."

Sunday, November 1, 2009

I've Seen A Lot of Gross Things...

...but watching the vet "syphon drain" a cow's stomach rates up there pretty high. Thank God my dad came up to help with the vet call this week. (Notice how he gets all the fun cow-related call outs? The castration, the loose bull, the stomach pumping...)
So, #84 had a huge air bubble in his rumen and needed the pressure relieved apparently. This involved some pretty exciting equipment and maneuvering on the part of both the vet and my dad. The really great thing is that since I had the baby strapped to the front of me I became just an observer instead of a participant.
First, he inserted a 1 1/2 inch piece of PVC pipe about a foot and a half long into his mouth and clipped it with one of those bull nose-clippy things right to his nose. The pipe was just so he didn't bite down on the 6 feet of garden hose he threaded through it down into his stomach. He used what looked like a bicycle pump to pump ~3 gallons of water into his stomach via the tubing. He was supposed to syphon-barf his stomach contents, but it didn't work. Hmm. Add another 3 gallons or so? Yep!! He pumped some more and when he disconnected the hose all hell broke loose!!! You have got to be joking me.
#84 barfed probably 5 gallons of green, half-digested, stank, rank, absolutely stinky cow vomit all over the stall. And it wasn't like he stood still either - he was all poltergeist about it. His head was thrashing all over and the vet and my dad jumped back while he barfed, and barfed, and barfed some more. I had ring-side seats for the whole thing and barfed a little in my mouth. Gross.
They pumped him full of electrolytes and sent him on his way.
$165 later and an entire day spent scrubbing the stall down, we're good to go.
You couldn't pay me enough to do that.
See? Anyone can sit up when they're totally surrounded by pillows! And this week Colt started to smile! See it there? A little?

First time in the Bumbo chair. Colt did pretty good, but once he slumps over he can't really get back up himself. We're getting there though!

Bath time! We don't even cry anymore - in fact, he kinda likes it!

"Ok Daddy...I push the red one, then the blue one, right? I love Madden 10 on the XBox."

Please Repeat Your Selection

I have found that it is impossible to work your way through the automated call center over the phone while holding a crying baby. All I wanted to do was call our corporate office and ask what address to send some paperwork to, so I really didn't need to talk to anyone "live", I just needed to get the freaking address.
"Please enter your employee ID number."
"Waaa. Waaa. 6. 2. Waaa. 7. Waaaa."
"Hmm. I didn't catch that. Please enter or say your employee ID number."
"Waaa. Waaa. 6. 2. Waaa. 7."
"If 93696 is correct, say yes. If not, say no."
"NO. Waaaa. Waaa"
"Yes, alright then. For HR say one, for IT say two, for benefits questions say three."
"Waaaa. THREE. Waaa."
"Hmm. I didn't catch that. Please choose one of the following options: For HR say one, for IT say two, for benefits questions say three."
"Waa. THAA-REEE. Waa."
"Hmm. I didn't catch that. To be transferred to an operator say 'operator'."
"Waa... OPERATOR. Waa."
"Hmm. I didn't catch that. Please choose one of the following options: For HR say one, for IT say two, for benefits questions say three."
Whatever. I just hung up. Obviously the computer system doesn't speak baby.