Ear we go…

After much discussing, research, and talking with friends and family, J and I decided last week that we’d move forward with tubes for Baby O’s ears. Because we’re working parents and it’s not practical for one of us to quit our job to avoid another ear infection. Because he’s stuffy again which will likely lead to another ear infection in short order. Because it’s winter, and it’s cold and dark and it’s nearly impossible to think that we can avoid him getting sick.

But mostly it’s because his ear infections give him a lot of pain, and having the tubes will help his ears better drain. AND treatment of any ear infections afterwards will be local antibiotic instead of a general antibiotic.

The benefits of doing the procedure far outweigh the risks.

It’s scheduled for next Thursday. We need to be at the hospital at 6:30am, and the instructions were clear that Baby O cannot eat or drink after midnight. (Which will be HARD – Baby O gets a bottle every morning at 5am. BUT! To manage this, I will give him a bottle at 11:30 the night before so that he’s not as ravenous.)

The good news is that he can take his beloved bear blanket into the room with him. And I will be with him while they adminster the anesthesia. And the procedure will take ten minutes, and we’ll be able to see him immediately once he wakes up.

So that’s that. It’s not the best day for me to be taking off work, since that’s the morning of our earnings call, but it can’t be helped. J has taken the whole day off, so he will stay with Baby O if I need to go into work in the afternoon.

I have complete confidence that we’ve made a good choice for Baby O.

Doesn’t mean I’m not a little nervous, though.

I’ll keep you all posted.

Wordless Thursday: Snowday with Baby O.

(Weigh in #2 today: nothing gained, nothing lost. I’ll continue to keep making good choices; hopefully will have better news to report next week.)

My little boy.

Thank you for the support on my husband vent. (And OMG, My Reality’s story about her husband was TOO FUNNY.)

I think it all comes down to the fact that I feel like I’m bearing all the responsibility for looking out for Baby O’s safety. Especially now, when we’re not QUITE babyproofed, I’d really like for J to be a bit more vigilant.

The good news is that we agreed on some “house rules.” As in, unless there’s a Big Important Sports Thing on, the TV doesn’t go on when Baby O is awake. It’s a simple rule, but one that will save us some friction down the line. (Thanks D for the idea.)

So yesterday was THE DAY.

The day we took Baby O for his first haircut.

You can see from the video that his hair was LONG. In his eyes. I was consistently pushing it out of his eyes, and I expect Baby O was tired of it too.

So yesterday morning, after installing his Big Boy Carseat (a new convertible seat YAY! No more lugging that freaking heavy bucket to and from daycare!)… We went to Snip-Its – a place that specializes in kid haircuts.

He was a touch overwhelmed, what with the noise and colors and everything, but he held it together enough to smile for the camera for my “before” shot.

And then The Scary Lady With The Scissors wet his hair, and he absolutely LOST it.

This was the last picture I was able to get at the hair place – I ended up having to sit him on my lap for the rest of his haircut, while he sobbed and sobbed from the indignity of the whole experience.

After it was all over, and we paid, and got him calmed down, we all went out for lunch to celebrate his bravery.

As he was sitting there, calmly eating his puffs, I looked over and almost fell off my chair.

Because this is what I saw.

When did my itty bitty baby turn into a little boy?

ARGH.

I am so frustrated with J I could just scream.*

My husband is ABYSMAL at multitasking. (A fact which he readily admits.) There have been times where, when we’ve been at his parents house, he literally cannot carry on a conversation in the same room with the TV. (Because yes, my FIL is addicted to TV. It’s on ALL THE TIME in their house.) J will stand there, oblivious to the conversation, mouth agape, drool flecking the corners.

Ok, yeah, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. However, almost EVERY TIME we’re there, J does zone out of the conversation.

When Baby O was a itty bitty newborn, J would get up with him early and take him downstairs so I could catch up on sleep. He recalls proudly that he could sit there, holding Baby O, “with a computer next to me and Sport.scenter on in the background.”

Annoyed me then. But I got to sleep in and Baby O wasn’t in any sort of danger, per se. Granted, I wasn’t HAPPY that J would essentially provide nothing but a soft place for Baby O to sleep at that point, but we all have different styles, right? And J was happy, Baby O was happy, I was mostly happy.

But you can see from Friday’s video that Baby O is no longer content to sit still. Not only that, but he’s exploring everything in our house. And we are JUST getting to babyproofing. Which means that we’ll find out IN REAL TIME what we’re going to have to remove from Baby O’s clutches.

Which means that you HAVE to keep an eye on the kid. At LEAST one eye. Two eyes, more often.

So WHY is it that every time J is “in charge” of Baby O on weekends, he HAS TO TURN ON THE DAMN TV? Or, when I ask him to watch Baby O EATING, he insists on reading the paper?

Because, you know. If Baby O chokes on that piece of pancake he’s eating, he’ll say his Daddy’s name loudly and multiple times to let him know. Because that’s what mom has to do to get dad’s attention when he’s reading the paper.

It’s the what ifs that freak me the fuck out here. If I can fall down the stairs with Baby O in my arms when I’m ANAL about counting stairs every time?

What’s going to happen to Baby O the day where J isn’t even paying attention?

Ugh.

_________________________________________________________________________________
*Ok, yes. Here’s my obligatory paragraph about how lucky I am, et cetera, et cetera.

Fact is, my husband is a very good dad. He adores Baby O. He plays with him. Changes diapers – both poopy and wet – without complaint. Makes silly faces. Sings goofy songs. Feeds him. Dresses him appropriately for the weather – without me having to lay out clothes. Makes bottles. Washes bottles.

In most things, J is an equal partner, an equal parent. Baby O and I are his priorities.

And I am lucky.

I don’t say that lightly, either. I hear on my boards about the husbands who insist on having everything the way it was before a baby, where the burden of ALL the care falls on the mom. Or those without husbands too.

So I SHOULD just shut up now. Because I am lucky, and J is great, yada yada.

Baby O’s mad skills.

This doesn’t EVEN get CLOSE to covering his nunchuck and bowhunting skills, either.

Babyproofing? LONG OVERDUE.

Weigh In #1

I’m down five pounds.

FIVE POUNDS, people.

Granted, the way this works is that the first 13 will go pretty well, but the last 7 will take forever.

But whatever. I’m 25% of the way there.

WOO HOO!!!!

ENTertaining the idea of tubes.

(*ba-dum CHING!*) Bad pun, I know.

At Baby O’s 9 month appointment, the pediatrician noted from his history that he had four ear infections for four months straight. And so she referred us to an ear nose and throat specialist.

Baby O had that appointment yesterday morning.

So.

He still has fluid in his ears from his last ear infection. Which is completely normal – it can take up to three months for fluid to drain completely from the middle ear after an ear infection. However? It makes him more prone to another, particularly since he’s often congested and the fluid usually drains through the nose. 

Since it’s January, and he’s VERY likely to get another ear infection, the ENT recommended putting tubes in his ears.

When I heard that? The crazy lady in my head wanted to grab Baby O and run away from the Very Bad Man Who Wants To Put My Baby Under General Anesthesia.

Logically? I sort of knew that he would suggest it. Because four ear infections right on top of another sort of makes Baby O the very definition of a good candidate. And well, it’s cold and flu season, people.

And truthfully, I have never been comfortable with the idea of putting Baby O on antibiotics, one right after another. I am not AGAINST them, per se, but on a macro level I worry that more antibiotics makes more bacteria resistent to antibiotics. And for me, personally, I’d prefer NOT to medicate Baby O if he can do without it.

The biggest benefit of tubes is that, if he DOES get an ear infection (which happens, the doctor did tell us this), then we can treat it with drops and not a general antibiotic. Which is a big deal, since he’s in daycare and therefore prone to getting colds and therefore more ear infections.

And it’s not like he’ll be under for FIVE HOURS or anything. The procedure takes literally 5 minutes per ear.

But still.

Eeep.

I go.ogled the hell out of it last night, and then J and I had a long conversation about it. And I came out of it mostly for having the ENT put tubes in. J is WAY more comfortable with the idea of the procedure than I am.

But I think it’s mostly because he doesn’t have a crazy lady in his head like I do.

More to come on this, I’m sure.

Including the post where I wig out about the fact that I have to explain to a 10 month old:

I KNOW  you’re hungry, love, and you USUALLY get a bottle right now… but mama can’t feed you this morning because, well, there’s a Bad Man Who Will Have To Put You Under General Anesthesia.

And mama is going to let him.

*sigh*

And because it’s Wordless Wednesday, a recent picture which makes me happy whenever I look at it for your viewing pleasure:

(I mean seriously, does he vamp for the camera or what?)

(Not So) Great Expectations.

I’ve been thinking a lot about expectations these days.

Expectations of myself. As a working mom. As a wife. As a person.

Expectations of my husband. Of my son.

I don’t think there’s been a day in my life that hasn’t been colored with some sort of measuring stick. If it wasn’t the competition of being the fastest kid on my block, it was the pressure from my parents to bring home the grades they felt was reflective of my intelligence. Or the need to “fit in” in junior high and early high school (in which, as an aside, never happened. So around sophomore year of high school I just gave up and did my own thing. In fact, I worked hard NOT to make friends with one group of people; I instead tried to be nice and friendly with everyone. Consequently it wasn’t until my adulthood that I actually had a best friend who was a girl).

And then there were the years after college, when I was single, and working, and living downtown Boston. Where I didn’t eat much at all, and worked out all the time, and was the skinniest I’ve ever been – but kept looking in the mirror and seeing a fat girl.

And then unemployment. And career change. And marriage. And infertility.

And now motherhood.

I know that I expect more of myself than Baby O does. I WANT to be supermom. I want to be fun, and have a gorgeous and clean house, and spend time as a family doing fun things, and keep taking time for myself.

But it hit me this weekend, when yet again we didn’t manage to get our to do list finished. And in the meantime, screwed up Baby O’s nap and eating schedule. And instead, I found myself rushing around, stressed out to the max, while he fussed because he was tired and hungry.

Newsflash, Serenity. YOU CAN’T DO IT ALL.

And that’s OKAY.

So for the first time in my life, I am letting go of my expectations. Giving myself leeway to go to bed at 8:30 at night instead of washing that extra dish. To get down on the floor with Baby O and play instead of clearing off the table right away.

I am NOT superwoman, and I shouldn’t expect it of myself.

The other thing.

So. To lose 20lbs, working out twice a week just isn’t enough.

Fact of the matter is, I’ve forgotten what a healthy portion size is. For the past year and a half I’ve eaten whatever I want. I ate whatever I wanted in early pregnancy, and by the end, I ate whatever it was that would give me the least amount of heartburn. And when I was nursing? I pretty much ate whatever I wanted. Because I was HUNGRY.

But yeah. I’m not nursing anymore. And I am really about 10lbs heavier than what’s healthy, and 20lbs above where I want to be.

I knew that when I decided I wanted to lose 20lbs that I needed some help. And so I decided to join we.ight wa.tchers. There were meetings on Wednesday nights near my house.

Beyond the research? I didn’t actually DO anything about it. It was the holiday season, and then we were gone to Florida for vacation.

And then it was January, and I figured I’d go one week. Except it snowed and iced.

And the next week I had dinner plans.

And the week after that, too.

It wasn’t until my good friend D pointed out to me that I keep coming up with excuses to NOT diet that I realized. I didn’t actually want to go to the meetings. I was dreading it, in fact. The idea of sitting in a room with a bunch of women I don’t know, talking about the fact that I stuff my face with whatever I want because it’s HARD to watch what I eat?

Meh.

Didn’t help, either, that if I decided to go to meetings, I’d miss seeing Baby O. In fact, since Thursdays are my gym morning, I’d see him on Wednesday morning when I dropped him off at daycare, and wouldn’t see him again until I picked him up from daycare on Thursday night.

Excuses, excuses.

So on Wednesday night, I made a decision. I signed up for the online we.ight watc.hers. Which means I need to be WAY more vigilant that I stick to keeping track of my points, since I have nothing keeping me accountable each week.

And really, I’m only two days into keeping track of everything that goes into my mouth. Let me tell you something – it’s pretty eye opening. For example? I grab some tortilla chips when I first get home to munch on. And then I have this habit of “finishing” whatever it is that Baby O won’t eat at night. And after dinner, I wander the house for something sweet.

So anyway. I’m putting it out there that I’m finally DOING SOMETHING about my weight, too.

I had this fantastic strapless dress I wore to our rehearsal dinner almost 5 years ago. My current goal is to lose enough weight by May so that I can wear it to a friends’ wedding.

So to that goal, I’ve added a ticker on the side, which has taken the place of the nursery pictures link.

Gym Day #2

AF arrived in full force this morning. A fact which, combined with the fact that it was FIVE FREAKING DEGREES outside this morning, almost kept me home.

But it’s my gym day. So off I went.

The treadmill started off rough; I’m sore from Tuesday’s foray into running and I couldn’t get a good stride at first.

But I didn’t let it stop me. I spent a full half hour on the treadmill. And went further this time – close to two and a quarter miles. And ran more than I was able to on Tuesday.

My issue right now is my lung capacity – I can overcome the sore muscles pretty easily, but it’s harder to run when I can’t breathe.

Still though. It’s progress.