Just because I threw you down the stairs...

Doesn't mean you need to give me the finger!

Completely unscripted - I just looked down and saw this. Rotten little boy! :-)

OK, so I didn't ACTUALLY throw the baby down the stairs. I was walking down the stairs last night with a baby in one arm and we kind of, well, traveled quickly down five or six steps on my butt. Dexter's little feet might have hit a few stairs on the way down. He's perfectly fine - still has two feet and ten toes. That still kick. I think I mostly just scared the piss out of him. As seen in subsequent diaper changes.

And me? The idiot who fell down the stairs? I'm fine. It scared me half to death. After the "OMG, did I kill the baby?" initial reaction, all those "what if" scenarios flashed through my head. Some completely ridiculous scenarios, of course. Like "OMG, what if I had been holding Dexter with his HEAD under my arm, instead of his feet? His head would have totally smashed down six stairs!" Ridiculous, right? Why would I ever carry Dex with his head under my arm pit? That's something his Dad would do... Anyway, after some "I almost killed the baby" tears, I am fine. And I cracked up five minutes later (I swear) when I looked down and saw Dexter flipping me the bird. Yeah, I know. I deserved it, buddy.

And yes, mother. I WAS holding the railing when I fell down the stairs. I am just an idiot.

There's a Man on My Couch

I found this on my couch this afternoon. Can I keep it?

I am cute. That is all.

C is for Cookie

So if Dexter has slept like a ROCK for his two evening naps (typically non-sleepers) does that mean that he really enjoys the eighteen billion chocolate chip cookies I have eaten today? Perhaps I should continue the cookie experiment again tomorrow? Such a sacrifice!

I am sure it's a fluke thing, and never again will the child sleep from 6pm til 8:30 pm. But hey - I'll take it for one day!

I'm having bad hair day (ok, I'm having a bad hair LIFE) and I have spit-up trickling out of my mouth. But I have some cute VT socks! GO HOKIES!

Witless

That'd be me. I got nothing witty for you all today. Nothin. Sorry. I'm sleepy, I should probably be taking advantage of napping baby to take a nap myself. But the internets have sucked me right in, so here I be.

So you just get some pictures from a Mom play date yesterday. At which Dexter met and proposed marriage to at least two ladies. Who are older. Much, much older. Like 35 years older. Might want to set your sights a little bit younger, my man... We also had a little play date here at the house today. So we're quite the social butterflies. Whatever shall we do tomorrow?? Maybe it will be nice enough outside to go for a walk. And a trip to Wal-Mart might be in the cards. Got nothing to do during the day? Plan a trip to Wal-Mart! Always makes any day better.

Oh! Fabulous discovery of the day? Dexter will sleep, eventually, in his Snuggly baby carrier thing. AND - I can effectively cut cheese and slice apples while he is in there. Sweet!! Also, he-he. I said "cut cheese..."

Dexter snuggles with one of his future wives, Shari

Traitor! Other future wife Christie snuggles with Rylan instead of with Dex. How dare she! Also, ridiculous to think that in six months Dexter will be as big as Rylan is here. He's HUGE!
Cute snuggly baby.

Thanks, Amy, for taking pictures on Monday!

What's the Difference?

So we don't get it. How do we do nothing, NOTHING, different and have such a drastically different child from day to day? Thursday? Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Friday? I don't really remember, but I was smiling when John got home so it must have been fine. Saturday? Slightly fussy child who missed a few naps, but tolerable. Kind of like cry half an hour, sleep half an hour. And today? Thus far the boy has done nothing but sleep. Sleep, sleep, and sleep some more. And I swear we've done nothing different. So what's the deal?

We had a fun visit from the Bairs yesterday, and Dex and I have TWO play dates this week. So we'll be some busy people! Plus we've got to go shopping at the big huge consignment sale in Havre de Grace on Thursday evening, just to see what kind of fun deals we can pick up for baby stuff. Not that we really need anything - you all have us well stocked. I'm looking for like 12 month old clothes. Because we're in good shape up until then!

For your daily dose of Dexter, check out my super cute boys. I love them!

Three. THREE!

It's Dexter Jeopardy! And the question is: What is the number of diapers Dexter pooped in within a five minute period, at 4:30 AM?

I've got to start getting John to do these 4:30 AM feedings...

And my dear Dave Telesco. Your advice to put a washcloth over the pee-pee to stop errant sprayed urine? All fine and good. But tell me, what is your definition of "it works!"? If "it works!" means that baby will not pee with a washcloth over his pee-pee, you would be sadly mistaken. If, however, "it works!" simply means that pee will not go shooting six feet across the room until it hits a wall? Well, ok. It works. It works a bit more like this: washcloth kind of soaks up some pee, and deflects it down the baby's side, thereby soaking clothing and changing pad that baby is lying on, and necessitating the changing of all items. At, of course, 4:30 AM.

See why I need to get John to start doing these feedings?

We're working on a better day thus far today, after a fairly terrible one yesterday. A day in which, after John called ten minutes after I thought he'd be home to tell me was just then leaving work, I cried. And when John got home and gave me a hug, while I was holding a baby who really just wanted to bite my nipple off, I cried some more. Kind of a lot. Bad day. But today is looking up! We're going to go to Wal-Mart during one of our habitually crappy nap periods. Because Wal-Mart = BABY SLEEP!! How anyone can sleep in Wal-Mart is beyond me, but Dexter seems to enjoy Wal-Mart as a napping location.

Speaking of three, it's Dexter's three week birthday today. I was cracking up yesterday when I was asking the lactation consultants for advice on how to get Dex to nurse better, so I was not in constant pain. They said "he's only three weeks old, it'll take a while for him to get it." To which I thought "Christ on a pony! He's THREE WEEKS OLD!! How has he not yet figured out how to EAT??"

For your daily (or every other daily) dose of Dexter: bundled up in his super cute jacket with hood and built in mittens, after a walk we took on Wednesday morning. We shall NOT be walking today, as it's 35 degrees with eight billion mph winds...

Rocky Balboa

Does the fact that Dexter can pack a mean left hook directly to his mom's nipple, EVERY. TIME. mean that this boy is going to be a lefty? Just like Rocky Balboa! :-) OK, I had to look that up. Who knew Rocky Balboa was a lefty?

Seriously, though. The left hand on this child is the bane of my existence. I would like to strap it to his waist so it can never move again. Because when he punches an already sore nipple with it? HURTS. OWWW. BAD.

And in other news of the week, we went to lactation support group yesterday for some ideas on how to work with my overactive milk supply. And came home with? A diagnosis of mastitis. Requiring a trip to my doctor and a later trip to Wal-Mart to pick up some antibiotics. What is mastitis? It's Latin for, I think, "red swollen breast that hurts when you touch it." Apparently I am some kind of superwoman, because mastitis knocks some people right on their butt. Fever, flu-like symptoms, seriously painful breast. Me? I just looked down yesterday and said "hmmm, wonder why that's red?" And that's about it. Anyway, antibiotics and oodles of nursing should get me back to normal in no time. Normal, of course, being a relative term.

As I skipped breakfast this morning, I shall now take advantage of sleeping child (YAY SLEEPING CHILD!) to dig something out of the fridge for lunch. And think of a way to tie down one little boy's left hand...

PS - As Stacey so wisely pointed out, yes, chocolate does contain dairy. So while I may be superwoman on the mastitis front, I cannot claim the same for my self control when it comes to chocolate. I can't do it. Sorry, Dex! Does cheese on pizza count? Cuz I might not be able to cut that out, either. Hey, a girl's got to have her limits...