The Ava Workout

Quick tempo, maybe 160 beats per minute. GO!

And 1 and 2 and don't forget to breathe and pick her up and move her over and move the toys and check to see if she has a fist full of dog hair and check the dog to make sure she's not pissed or sporting a new bald spot and bend and lift and twist and release and move the cup and get the phone and call them back later and pick her up and move her over and find the remote to turn down the damn TV and change a diaper and make a bottle and set up the high chair (because lord knows we can't leave it set up all the time anymore) and heat some apples and feed and wipe and feed and wipe and put her in her crib with a binky and rest for 90 minutes.

Repeat 3 times, for 2 hours at a time.

We will pay you ONE MEEEEEEEELLION DOLLARS...

...to come over and effectively childproof our house.

Thank you and good day.

Battlestations! Red Alert!

It begins.



Busy, isn't she? She's spent the last 8 1/2 months looking at everything in the world and soaking it all in, and now she's going to go check it out.

She's pretty cute, too, huh?

The past couple of weeks have been kind of crazy. The whole work/home balance thing is bigger than we thought it would be. Some days, I wish we could narrow it down to just the Rock and the Hard Place. But, this is the business we have chosen. Not all of it is going to be perfect, but we're managing.

Last week was Parents Night at Daycare. They said it was going to be an opportunity for the parents and teachers to get together to discuss curriculum and transitions. Since we didn't know what any of that meant, we eagerly attended :). And we learned a lot. Evidently, curriculum exists even at the infant level. Every day, Ava learns stuff and not much of it is accidental. She learns how to interact socially because she spends her day playing with other babies who are all at different stages. She's about in the middle, as far as development goes. So she's been watching babies hit their own milestones (this is Daycare's language, but it makes sense) and that apparently inspires her to reach her own. Hence the crawling and clapping.

"Transitions" means "when do we move Ava to the next room". It's not based on age; rather it's determined by development. Some one-year-olds are running around like monkeys while others aren't quite there. They told us what she needs to be doing before putting her in the Toddler Room. Long story short, she needs to be walking steadily and be drinking from a sippy cup instead of a bottle. In the Toddler Room (it sounds important so I'll capitalize it) they all nap at the same time. They eat together, family style, and they learn how to use utensils and serve themselves and share blah blah blah.

Honestly, it sounds like a prime opportunity for food fights and chaos, but they know what they're doing so we're not going to argue too much until we see it for ourselves. If it works, everybody wins.

That's about it. It's cooling off (yay for the end of oppressive heat!) so there will be more evening walks and meals on the patio. We're looking forward to the holidays--I already have her Halloween costume. She's going to be Princess Leia. The Force is strong in this one, you know.

She has interesting musical tastes.

Yeah, given the fact that her father is a dyed-in-the-wool easy listener and I'm the queen of 80s top 40 pop radio, it shouldn't be such a shocker. The song that makes her the happiest? Rosie the Stripper.

The Stripper - Joe Loss

Awesome.

But now, thanks to Rosie the Stripper, we have proof of her teeth, because when I sing the song to her, she laughs.



We're all very proud.

Teeth Are A Pain In The Patootie.

Well, you know what I mean.

Ava has 2 teeth. We're working on getting pictures, but she's sneaky and not very forthcoming with Big Smiles when we have camera in hand. They're on the bottom, in front. She plays with them with her tongue quite a bit, which is super cute. Her sleep has been off for a while, so I asked some experts (i.e. Moms Who Have Been Here Before) what could be causing that. Everyone said teeth were coming and boy, were they right. I'm sure it's not news to most of the universe, but jeez, teething sucks.

She hurts, poor little boopy, and we don't want to get her hooked on painkillers yet (how many droppers of Baby Tylenol does it take to make a junkie? Let me know...) but we don't want her to hurt more than is absolutely necessary (or at all). So we have a freezer full of frozen teethers, which she loves, and Daycare Lady told us about these marvelous little things called Teething Tablets that seem to help. I don't know what's in them. They're homeopathic, which means they probably contain ground-up rhinoceros horn and moose dust and God only knows what else, but she sees us coming with the bottle in our hands and she opens her mouth like a good little princess and she takes them with not a lot of drama.

That's really all that's going on. Her sleep is all jacked up and therefore ours is too. Night before last, she woke up and I slept through it and Rob evidently sleepwalked to her room, got her out of the crib, gave her a binky, and then he woke up in the rocker holding her. So that's not good. We're a little tired. But she's still amazing and wonderful. She's starting to babble more, and her favorite word (I'll call it a word because I'm mom and what I say goes...) is Mamamamamama and I love hearing that :).

True Mom Confessions Can Bite Me.

I'm a semi-regular reader of this great blog--Motherhood Is Not For Wimps--and she just had a post where she made her own confessions and called for the confessions of other moms. A year ago, I would have been horrified by some of them. What kind of person doesn't change sheets regularly?! Cobwebs are an abomination! Etc...

Seven months in, I have a few of my own.

• The guilt I felt about going back to work and putting Ava in daycare was balanced by an equal amount of relief. Three months of staying home and being at her beck and call was exhausting. Work was, and often still is, like a mini-vacation. I have come to see the 4 Daycare Ladies as my colleagues. They are an integral part of the village that it takes to raise Ava.
• That said, the best part of my day is invariably the moment where I walk into her classroom and she sees me and literally drops what she's doing and smiles.
  
• Rob does a disproportionate amount of late night feedings and dirty diaper changes (sometimes simultaneously). I'm aware of it, and once he sees this admission I'll likely never hear the end of it.
• I keep the house clean at the expense of getting sleep. After some serious reflecting about this, I've come to realize that it's my way of ensuring that even though I'm a mom now, and my priorities don't come first, I'm still in here. I like a clean house, dammit, and therefore the house will be as clean as I can keep it.
• When people tell me how cute/happy/wonderful Ava is, I get all gracious and humble, when what I really want to say is "Yeah, I know."

There are a ton more, but these came to mind first.

It is interesting that revelations like mine (and those on that other blog) are presented as "confessions", rather than "this is how our family functions; deal with it". When did it become necessary to put on a show and make it seem like we're in complete control with little effort? I'm reminded of an email I received from my friend Amy (hi Amy!) near the end of my pregnancy. I've known Amy since 6th grade. There aren't a lot of secrets or surprises between us anymore. So this email that I received on January 6, a day after my due date and 4 days after another friend had just given birth and I was so jealous and tired and sore and BLAH... this email that so very nicely praised how well I was handling the home stretch of pregnancy and how zen I sounded, triggered something in me, and my reply was this total stream-of-consciousness spew of wrath that GOD I would have loved to post here but it probably would have raised eyebrows and inspired some well-intentioned but poorly-received advice.

What stopped me from writing about how tired and scared and sore I was? Why couldn't I be honest here about how irritating the teasing and questions (jeez, people, my cervix is NONE of your business) were getting? Why should we be embarrassed when we talk about how hard this is and how sometimes it's vitally important to keep a little bit of ourselves in the spotlight.

I've mentioned that I'm part of an online community. The original topic that brought us together is not related to pregnancy or childrearing, but that's the most common bond. Recently, another new mom and I were discussing how hard the first weeks are, and how sometimes you just feel alone because after the first couple of weeks, people stop bringing food over and gushing and visiting and suddenly you're on your own and it's fucking terrifying (it's my blog, I can use the F-word once in a while). Within a few minutes, others joined in, echoing the sentiment of "why don't we tell other soon-to-be moms this?!" Why is it so hard to admit that it's a struggle? Why is there this feeling of needing to defend the decisions we make and when we finally own them, why do we have to call them "confessions"?

Dammit, we're doing the best we can. All of us. Any day that ends with your whole family going to bed in one piece is a victory, and anyone who says "Oh, you stay at home? Really? Hmm..." can piss off. Anyone who says "How long did you try to breastfeed?" can just blow it out their asses. Everyone we see is fighting some kind of battle, and nobody has the right to make anyone feel like they have to defend their strategy.

Blog As Baby Book

I have one of those baby books that you're supposed to update with pictures and milestones. It's been on the shelf since mid-March. This has become the official record of Ava's development.

Milestones that seem to be happening all at once:

• Today a tooth broke the surface. Bottom left front. Pictures will hopefully follow, but she's tricky so we haven't caught a shot yet.
• She is moments away from crawling. She'll get on two arms and a leg but one leg is in the wrong place and she can't quite maneuver around it. But it's close.
• Last week I was sitting on the floor with her. She took both my hands and pulled herself up to a standing position. This freaked us out completely
• Right now? She's clapping. For no reason other than it makes her happy
• She likes watching people wave, and sometimes she waves back

Big things are coming.

The Sponge Migration

You've seen it on Discovery Channel when they show the ocean floor--these creatures that seem completely stationary actually do move, but they have to use time-lapse photography to show it. So they set a camera up and film for 8 hours and then they speed it up and it looks like rush hour. This is what we have going on in our living room.

Ava is not crawling. She never was too thrilled about "tummy time", which is what all the Advice Givers tell you that is THE MOST IMPORTANT THING YOU CAN DO FOR YOUR BABY'S DEVELOPMENT because it forces babies to learn to push up off the floor with their arms. Yeah, we hate that here. But she does love to sit and play with her toys. We plop her down on the floor and put some toys within reach, or just out of it, and she will amuse herself for half an hour. She doesn't topple over very often anymore. She'll just sit and play and talk to us and to herself and to her toys and everybody's happy.

This week I noticed that she wasn't where I put her. She was in the same position, but instead of being next to her playmat, she was 3 feet away playing with the fishbowl that Auntie Beth gave her (she loves it!). And then 15 minutes later, she was next to the Jungle Thingy with the spinning balls but she didn't creep over, she didn't roll. I don't know how she moves.






She just kind of rotates and reaches for something and when she sits back up she's a foot away. I don't know how she does it. We lack the technology (and patience) to do time lapse, and if our video camera can speed up I don't know how to do it. But she moves. I don't know how she moves, but she moves and it's FREAKING ME OUT.

In a related story, we're going to start childproofing the house this weekend. Because if she's this sneaky at 7 months (holy crap, 7 months!) we are totally screwed once she can get up and walk around.

Hot Town, Summer In The City

On Sunday, we were at Bob&Katie's to celebrate their son's 9th birthday. He was the first baby born in our circle of friends, and we often marvel at how hard it must have been to be the first parents out of all of us. I don't know what we'd do if we didn't have the wisdom and support of our close friends who have done this before.

Ava wore a fancy dress and had a lovely time :)


She spent the afternoon watching the kids run around. She watched the grandmothers sit and chat. She watches everything. She's always craning her neck, looking around, taking it all in. Daycare Lady told me that sometimes, she's so tired and just barely awake, but she keeps one eye open so she can see what the other babies are doing.

We're going to skip town this weekend and head back up to the cabin to get out of the heat. August in Las Vegas is not for the faint of heart!

Perhaps The Answer Is More Obvious Than That

There have been times in the past 6 months where we proceeded with much fanfare and confidence in an entirely incorrect direction. Early on, we tried to stop hysterical, purple-faced crying with a binky and a 3AM car ride, under the auspices of "She's tired, and this will soothe her." The appropriate solution to such a situation was, in fact, feeding her.

And then we had a terrible issue with "How are we going to keep her from getting spit-up all over her clothes and causing a rash if we don't change her quickly enough?" Yeah. That's what bibs are for, genius.

The most recent example of the view of the trees being blocked by the forest is in the previous post regarding orange food. Ava did not sleep on two days when she ate orange food. Ava hates orange food! No more orange food! Hooray!



I'm reminded of a scene from one of my favorite movies:



Orange food is like the cans. Ava is the guy with the gun. And we're Navin Johnson.

Hey, Einstein, maybe she's teething. Maybe the reason her sleep is changing is that she's 6-1/2 months old and her freaking teeth are coming in. Maybe her little mouth is starting to hurt because underneath the surface of her little gums ARE TEETH.

Oof.

In a related story, Baby Tylenol is a marvelous solution, allowing her to sleep, which allows us to sleep. And since sleep begets sleep, she is now back in the habit of sleeping through a big chunk of night. And so are we.

Rhymes with Orange

You know what rhymes with orange? No sleep. That's what rhymes with orange. As demonstrated in the following original biographical poem:

When Ava eats foods that are orange
There is no sleep.

She likes the orange foods. Yams? Good. Pumpkin? Gooooooood. But the night after eating orange food? NO SLEEP. Or, rather, lots of sleep, but in 17-minute increments and quite frankly we don't think that counts. AT ALL. This is why they tell you to introduce new foods to Baby one at a time and one new food every four days. So you know if something is causing a problem. So last week after yams, there was No Sleep. And the next day after we reviewed Ava's ups and downs (seriously, we do this: "How was her day? What did she eat? How much did she sleep?" we decided No More Yams for a while, because she was awake and gassy (don't ask). So yesterday I gave her some pumpkin and she loved it. Last night? NO SLEEP.

Orange foods contain vitamin A and beta carotene, and if babies eat a lot of these foods, there is evidently a chance that they will turn orange. Fortunately for us, there's no risk of that because we won't be eating any more orange food for a while. She likes the broccoli (I'm quite smug about this...) and the acorn squash (yeah) and we're still a big fan of bananas. Today, we may try some peaches. I also have some plums pureed and ready to eat, but they're a pretty significant shade of purple, and we need some time to recover from the havoc that orange hath wreaked on us before we move on to any other bold colors.

A Double Feature

Long overdue, I know.

We went to Utah for July 4th, and we had a mostly good time. There were some baby tummy issues (you do NOT want to know...) but she handled the altitude all right (10,000 feet above sea level) and we learned a few good lessons about traveling with a baby. The cabin is about 5 miles from a ski resort (Brian Head, to be specific) and we stayed at a condo there and visited Dad & Florence each day. It worked out, as the cabin had no running water, and running water is a key component of an Optimal Baby Environment.



I like hummingbirds, hence the inclusion of the hummingbird clip. It was a great weekend and we're hoping to get back up there soon. The last part (it went kind of Blair Witchy, didn't it, and I'm not so thrilled about that...) happened on the evening of the 4th. There was this huge fireworks show that happened right in front of our condo. It was crazy and we were freaking out because HI WE HAVE A SLEEPING BABY YOU MORONS but she slept right through it. Rock on, kid.

Our evening entertainment lately is all about The Ava Show. She's a funny kid and does cute little funny things.



That bouncy thing is about the best hundred bucks we'll ever spend. She. Loves. It. She still kicks her legs all the time, and she's all about being jostled and bumped around so it really is fun to watch her catch a bouncy wave and go to town.

We've started feeding her Real People Food, not just formula. My friend Tammy told me about a great website that is all about making your own baby food. It sounds kind of earthy-chunky-granola, but you can buy an entire acorn squash for the price of two jars of it prepared by a corporation with who knows what additives. And it's easy. Cut stuff into chunks, steam it, puree it, spoon it into an ice cube tray and freeze it. So far, we have done broccoli, the aforementioned acorn squash, and a yam. Broccoli seems to be kind of hit or miss (as it is for many of us), acorn squash seems to be pretty well received, but the yam? Oh she loves the yam. NOM NOM NOM YAM. She'll also chow down a third of a banana pretty easily for breakfast. My kid loves food. No shock there, huh? I really do love doing family dinners--we feed Ava while we eat and it's just cool :).

Ava had her six month check-up (and vaccinations because we don't want the Polio...). Little missy is 24 inches long and 17 pounds 9 ounces. She's grown almost 5 inches and she's gained 10 pounds, mostly in her cheeks and thighs. Very Wise Doctor seems pleased with her progress--she's still a little on the short side for her weight (runs in the family) but well within the normal range. We talked about her milestones: laughing, babbling, reaching, grabbing, sitting up unassisted. She's not so much into rolling over yet, and that's evidently an important precursor to the whole Crawling Thing, but I think we're close. We're about to start childproofing the house, mostly because we want to be ahead of the curve and if she does suddenly take off, we don't want to be running around the house with a drill like a couple of crazy handymen. Yeah. It's about to get fun.

More Kool-Aid, Please

I have joined a cult.

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not a joiner. I'm not a people person. I don't like daily affirmations and I really get suspicious of anyone who is too enthusiastic about anything.

But my house was a mess. Not like on Clean Sweep, which I actually cannot even watch because it makes me angsty. It was more of a consistently piley cluttery step-over-stuffy sort of environment. And that stresses me out, especially when I'm carrying a baby in one hand and an armful of stuff in the other.

Enter the Flylady.

Flylady wants us to have a clean house. Not OCD clean. Not clean at the expense of your family's sanity and all your spare time clean. Flylady believes that if I spend 15 minutes a day tidying up and one hour a week with a vacuum and a duster, the house will become clean and stay clean.

Flylady emails me friendly reminders about things like "rebooting the laundry". Cute, huh? Rebooting it means that if it's not folded and put away, I need to get off my tuckus and move it one step closer to that status. Flylady wants the last thing I do every day to be a ritual Shining of my Sink. Not a metaphor. A shiny kitchen sink is the key to a clean house. Flylady wants me to sort the junkmail before it even gets inside the house so it doesn't pile up. Flylady wants me to set a timer for 15 minutes, walk into the Room of the Week, and, working clockwise (NEVER COUNTER-CLOCKWISE ONLY CLOCKWISE), I should hum a merry tune whilst "blessing my home" with cleanliness.

What pisses me off is that it works. Instead of spending a big chunk of time every evening stomping around with a Swiffer and clearing off the table (again) and getting frustrated with what doesn't get done, I spend less than half an hour focusing on whatever today's mission is and then I'm done.

I'll be damned if the house isn't clean and the laundry isn't folded and put away.

Sometimes she gets a bit Thankful To Our Lord, and the stuff she has for "WOHMs" (work outside-the home moms, as opposed to stay at home moms) is obviously attached as an afterthought, but I like that she advocates the creation of a system. Her methods require the creation and implementation of routines, and that makes me very happy. I love systems and routines like nobody's business.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go shine my stupid sink.

Angels On Earth And Up Above

There are things about being a parent that nothing can prepare you for. I mean, in the months preceding Ava's birth, we were inundated with advice. And a lot of it was useful. Like how one of my besties recommended Aquaphor for diaper rash issues. Best advice ever. And how someone said to take pictures of us holding the baby, not just of the baby. Awesome.

Nobody warned me about how time would slip away as it does. Ava and I get home around 6:15 and before I know it it's midnight and time to go to bed and hope that she sleeps through the night (she still does most nights) so that Rob and I can get 6 good hours of sleep before we start all over again.

Nobody warned me about how her milestones would affect me. One day a couple of months ago, it's like she just woke up and became this little person. She's aware of us, of herself, of her hands, of her feet, of the dog, of the world. Last weekend we were at the cabin (yeah, I know, pics and video will be up at some point) and Grams reached for her and she gave this big smile and opened her arms so wide and was so happy to be picked up. It was the first time she had done this, and while she'll do it a thousand times or more in her life, this felt so important. She didn't passively get passed around. She wanted to be where she was going.

Nobody warned me about how my heart would break when learning about a child drowning (or being found IN A FREAKING DUMPSTER OMG WORST STORY EVER) on the news. I get this cold, tangibly sharp fear that just courses through me for a second like a knife when I think of anything happening to Ava or any of my friends' kids or just about any kid at all.

Nobody warned me about how I would feel when learning about a friend's miscarriage. Oh, this was a bad week for that. I'm part of an online community, and this week, two of the ladies who I've gotten to know (there are probably a hundred total) lost their babies. One was 20 weeks along and it's not the first time it has happened to her and hearing that awful news was almost more than I could bear. If you have a minute, say a prayer for Alma and sweet baby Brooke.

Must. Lighten. Up.

Nobody warned me about how hard it would be to pull out the little clothes that once seemed so big on our little girl that are now too small for her and put them in storage to make room for the next size up. Ava is now 17-1/2 pounds, and in the 6-9 month sizes. For such a little punkin, she's awfully big :). Switching out the clothes forces us to see just how much she's grown--she's gained 10 pounds! Such a big girl :).

Nobody warned me about what it would be like to see my father holding my daughter and pointing out the things that he thinks are important for her to see. It's so funny to see him shift into Gramps mode.

I'm realizing that we all waited such a long time for Ava to join us, like we were in a holding pattern until she got here. We were just killing time, and now we're scrambling to slow it down.

Hit The Road, Jack!

So we went to San Diego last weekend. We left on Friday after work, and we'd had two nights of not-great sleep. I had some real anxiety about leaving town. I knew we'd be OK, but when we were almost to Barstow and the sun was going down, I felt completely out of my element. But the drive wasn't bad--Ava slept most of the way and we were going against traffic so it was pretty easy on all of us.

A video summary of the trip:



Saturday morning we went to Coronado and had lunch at the Del. It was a little rainy, but we did get to walk outside. They had an art exhibit on their courtyard--Dr. Seuss characters cast in bronze. Ava experienced her first Green Eggs and Ham :)


We went to the Padres game, and it was great until the Padres scored a couple of runs. We were sitting in the outfield bleachers, so when 40,000 people cheered, they were yelling directly at us.


We stayed until the top of the fourth. Ava had a good time until the screaming (she yelled right back at all those people...).

Sunday we had a great, relaxing day. We met one of my friends and her family for brunch at Wings & Things (YUM--beer & wings !) and then we went to Aunt Janice's for a Father's Day barbeque with Rob's family.

Monday, we had our Griswold moment. The San Diego County Fair is going on, and Rob really wanted to take us. I've never been to a big fair, but I know they have food so I'm a big fan of such things. We were pretty excited. So we plan our day around it, and we head towards the fairgrounds and there's no traffic. Cool! And we turn into the parking lot and it's nearly empty! Cool! We can park right up front!


And then we realize that maybe it's a little too empty. And then we see the sign:


They were closed. Sadly, there was no moose out front to tell us the news; we had to figure it out on our own. I thought it was pretty funny--Rob? Not so much.

So we went up the road to the beach, and I introduced Ava to the ocean.


She loved it. She likes to watch things that move (like the ceiling fan and the television) so this was a lot of fun!


It was a great trip! We have decided that we need to allow more time after we get back in order to recover--we drove back to town on Tuesday, and that was a really long day. We got home about 6:00 and we were all just exhausted. So there's our lesson.

Next weekend we're going up to Utah to see Grams & Gramps at the cabin. I spent a lot of time there when I was growing up, and while I didn't always love it up there (picture it: I'm 14 and all of my friends are having fun with each other all summer and I get to spend 3 month with no electricity and no phone and nobody to talk to except for my sister) I now see the value of having a place to go that's far enough away to be a vacation but close enough to be an easy run for a weekend.