bushy bushy blonde hairdo

i had a surfing lesson today and this is the picture tayloe took. isn't it lovely?
there's nothing like a very tight neoprene wet suit to really shine the light on the last of the baby weight.
i've been so excited about learning how to surf since we moved here and today was my day. and peter (the dude closely examining .... um, i'm not sure what he's examining exactly) was my instructor. from a distance you might think that peter was the best part of the lesson. i'll be honest - he wasn't ugly close up.
sadly, he had the personality of a clam.
anywho, i learned some moves on land and then peter and i headed out to the ocean as t1 and t2 watched from the shade of our beach umbrella. it was everything i hoped it would be. especially the wipe out. wiping out is a lot of fun and i had a lot of opportunities to try it.
peter, though, was a drill sergeant. i'd hop on the board, he'd push me into a wave, i'd try to get up, fall over and then wade my way back out to him, getting clobbered by waves along the way. the minute i got there, he'd tell me to hop back on and then he'd shove me back into another pile of whitewater.
after about an hour, i forgot my pride.
"look man, this is so fun, but i just had a baby. i'm pretty sure most of my muscles are atrophied. also, i've swallowed so much salt water my mouth feels like i've eaten a jumbo bag of potato chips only i'm not nearly as satisfied."
i managed to look alive on my way back to the beach. i smiled and said thanks and made small talk even though i wanted to drop down right there and take a nap in the sand like a desert island wash up. as soon as he was gone, i flopped down in a chair, drank a liter of water and moaned a lot.
i wondered outloud if maybe surfing is a little too ambitious a start to getting back in shape. super dad chimed in, reminding me how much fun it is, how good the water feels, how awesome it is to be outside in the sun, how blissful it is to be out there paddling around.
he's right. it beats the shit out of a gym. plus i get the added bonus of sandy beach hair.
so now we're on a mission to get stronger and healthier - the first time in our 5 year marriage we've pledged to do it together. this, i know, is a good thing.
but yowza. i'm pretty sure i'm going to have to sleep in the chair i'm sitting in right now because moving ignites burning fire inside my body. tayloe (his lesson was yesterday and he surfed after me today) is passed out on the couch nearby.
he just moved a little bit, groaned very loudly and said, "i think i died." the baby is sound asleep in his bed.
still, i'm proud of us for learning something new - something that someday our teenage son may not mind doing with us.
none of us can wait to go out and do it again. just maybe not tomorrow.

Happy Birthday Grand Jane!

peace

everyone in my house is asleep and it's so quiet and lovely. all i can hear is the sound of my fingers typing. it's delicious.
after several days of talking myself down off the ledge and not buying formula to supplement t2's meals, i let my worries and fears and mostly guilt go last night and bought a bottle of similac.
i did this for two reasons: first, i love breastfeeding, but it's a bit of a ball and chain. second, i couldn't get ahead on storing breastmilk cause chompers was pretty much taking all there was at every feeding. for the past two nights, tayloe has fed him a bottle of potion and i've been able to pump and get our overstock supply back in business. i like having stockpile of the good stuff. if i don't it means i'm responsible for every feeding everyday and that's just about the most unfun thing in the whole world.
still i mulled over the forumla bottle for a good 3 hours last night. shaking it. reading the ingredients. reading the directions. just staring at the bland white bottle with and the pathetic little teddy bear on the lable and wondering if the manufacturers really think that makes me feel like they care.
FORMULA. there's something about it - FORMULA. i mean, no one's even trying to disguise that it's a completely manufactured, unnatural product. that seems very unamerican to me.
i'm not a breast feeding nazi. i think parents should feed their kids whatever suits them. never let your kid see a boob or nurse until your he's 4. it's an intensly personal decision that only parents can make. i get that.
but when it came down to making the choice for my baby, i really struggled. i just kept thinking about how new and fresh his body is - not a nano-ounce of processed food in him - and what a wonder that is. part of me wanted to just keep it that way.
that was my heart talking.
my brain said this: don't be a dumbass. you're tired and you're starting to be a teenie tiny bit resentful. by the end of the day, you feel like a shrivled raisin. this is not a huge deal. this is for your sanity.
i thought about calling the doctor. i think i actually dialed the number. and then i realized i was just wanting someone's permission. isn't that stupid? our doctor, who's spent maybe 1 hour with us max, isn't at all suited to make a choice for my family. i'm pretty sure that's my job.
so i just let it go. it was a win-win. t2 chugged it and got some extra dad love. i got a shower and waxed my eyebrows.

perma press

i've had terrible luck with swings and rockers. the most recent swing malfunctioned a couple of days ago. at first it seemed it just needed new batteries, but after 3 rounds of fresh ones it still isn't working. that's a lie. it does, technically, work. it's just that the swing doesn't swing as much as it just limps along. and it makes this terrible weezing noise.
i put tay in it and he looks at me like ive just told him i'm going to drive him and his date to the movies. "mmmmooooommm, this is so lame." and then he starts crying.
anyway, i'm going to take it back and break down and buy the papassan cradle swing super macdaddy contraption that i should have gotten in the first place. however, getting out of the house and making a trek to target is kind of a hassle because it requires getting on the freeway.
until i get around to it, tayloe gets the dryer treatment.
you should know that this is something my mother recommended a good while back and i , erhmmm, scoffed at. it's a triple grand slam -- turn it on and it's warm, makes noise and vibrates. tay loves it. sometimes he naps, sometimes he just lays there and makes eyes at the breaker box on the wall. sleeping, cooing, plotting how he and his new best friend breaker box are going to take over world -- i don't really care as long as he's content.
i also like it because it gives him special alone time. he's comforable and cozy and happy and we aren't in the room and have very little to do with his peace. i think this is a good thing.
there are several other added bonuses, not the least of which is that i'm encouraged to actually do laundry so i'm not just running it empty. however, running it empty isn't above me. putting the same load through 4 or 5 cycles isn't above me, either. we have some really, really dry clothes.
little guy is on it right now, sleep, sleep sleeping away while i watch monday night football. (you're goin' down carson palmer).
i'm really glad our dryer isn't in the basement.

cat hat

do you like this hat? i put it on today when we went to the beach and t2 loved it. smiled and smiled and smiled at me. maybe he thinks his mom is a clown.
tayloe and lawrence, of course, made fun of me.
there's a little boy next door - he's maybe 7 years old - who rides his bike up and down our sidewalk. back and forth, back and forth, back and forth he's been going all summer long.
yesterday around 2, he cruised by our house as usual, except this time he had a big plastic monster truck tied behind him. only, the rope he used was a little too long and he just couldn't quite get his speed right so instead of it coasting along smoothly behind him like i imagine he hoped it would, he was dragging it.
hhhhrrrrsssshhhhhrrrr. hhhrrrrrsssshhhhrrr. he tried all afternoon to make it work and just couldn't seem to get there.
sometime around 4, he ditched the truck for (and this is sad) ... a paper airplane. he nearly wore a trail on the sidewalk trying to get that thing to fly. he'd peddle super fast, wringing his neck back behind him to see if the plane had lifted off, then losing his balance a little, wavering, crashing into the grass.
"see what you have to look forward to?" i told my little boy with as much enthusiasm i could muster. "someday you can spend 5 hours dragging things behind your bike just like that kid."
he smiled at me. and then he farted.

smiley face

this is how he looks at tayloe pretty much all the time. they adore each other.

we love those pittsburgh steelers

fast wilie tayloe john tate t2 jte tatertot jack parker super steeler.

what i've learned

1. burp cloths make themselves scarce when the puke comes
2. pacifiers come in sizes
3. babies don't read parenting books (actually, neither do i)
4. there isn't a diaper wipe on the market that smells normal
5. baby einstein is stupid
that's my top 5. there's more, but i won't bore you.
it's testosterone city here. three boys, wolly and me. the steelers play in t minus 45 and counting, so i expect the levels to rise significantly as the night progresses. i can't lie and say i'm not excited for football season, but i do feel a sudden urge to do something girly like wash my hair and paint my nails. i think i will.
here's what's new today: first, i'm boycotting pareting books (see number 3 above) because they create crazy people and i'm pretty sure are written by the kind of morons that offer unsolicited kid advice in the grocery store aisle. i don't much like those people so i don't much think i need to read their books. so bye bye 'what to expect the first year' - you're going to the bottom of the baby trunk. i'll call you if i need you.
also new today is that t2 slept from 9:45 until 4ish last night. bliss.
the little flirt also smiles pretty much whenever he's awake and makes these 'aw shucks' smirks and locks in on our eyes and says ggaaahhh a lot. we love him and i'm pretty sure he's starting to love us.
having said that, you should know it isn't uncommon for me to forget we have him. actually, not forget so much as just not remember immediately. this morning we all went to the beach for a walk and a smoothie. tayloe grabbed t2, lawrence grabbed the stroller and i grabbed my purse. outside, as i watched tayloe putting the baby in the car it registered that he is in fact ours and that maybe i should go back inside and get the diaper bag. and a blanket to keep him warm cause its breezy at the beach. and maybe a pacifer.
yo, blondie. you have a baby.

Lawrence is here!

Cousin Lawrence Altaffer is in the house. Currently T2 is resting in his arms peacefully. For how long we don't know. More after the burp.

super dad in overdrive

ok, i'm making up for lost time. but you gotta know that tayloe just came into the kitchen and said, "listen up baby, we're moving to brentwood." brentwood is a very nice, riche neighborhood in west LA.
tayloe thinks we're moving to brentwood because he was accepted to audition for a reality/quiz/tv show called 'show me what you got.'
i would have linked to something there, but i couldn't find any information on it.
"we're about to be $5 mil richer," he announced.
"oh we are?" i said, not looking up from my computer.
"yeah, baby, taste the money?" he said. he was actually licking his lips and making little taste noises, kinda like the ones t2 makes when he nurses.
he showed me a VIP pass for the audition printed out from his computer and an email from a casting assistant.
i'm not kidding. he was really proud.
"what do you have to do?" i asked. flash to american idol outtakes. flash to tayloe in our kitchen making taste noises. flash to william hung singing 'she bangs.' cut back to tayloe standing in front of me beaming and doing a little jig.
"i don't know. but $5 million dollars baby. i responded to their questionaire and told them how i wanted to use the 5 mill to help restore our historic family home, ensuring that my one month old son could live there someday."
five years of marriage has really taught him the art of getting me on board.
"ok, lets go," i said, "but what if you have to strip or something? or live with a bunch of lunatics in a windowless house for 5 months?"
he raised his eyebrows, faked a strip tease and pranced off, disappearing into his office.
i'm left with the sad job of telling prince luscious lips (above) that his dad is certifiable.

one full, wacky month

i'm running out of things to name my photos. i have about 1,000 versions of 'cutebaby.' 'cutebaby1,' 'cutebabya,' 'cutebabytayloe,' 'iamacutebaby,' 'i am so cute.'
i'm going to have to start thinking of something else, but honestly that's all i can come up with everytime i look at his photo. "oh, what a cute baby." maybe i'll get super organized and create different folders for each month. mmmm yeah, that probably isn't going to happen.
speaking of names, i'm having a hard time with tayloe's nickname. i call him tay sometimes and i really like that especially since it's what my husband and mother in law are both called, but i so closely associate that name with his father that it's hard for me to use it on anyone else. i look him in the eye and i call him tay and then i wait for tayloe to say "what."
it's very confusing.
also, we have a friends who have a daughter named tay and that always gets in my head, too.
it's like one day deciding to call a plate a bowl. only it's not 100 percent like that because i'm not so much changing his name - i wouldn't change john tayloe for the world - as trying to find one good nickname that fits for our purposes.
it should be known that outside of close friends and family he'll be called tayloe. unless of course we come up with a really rockin nickname and it just sticks and seems like what he should be called for eternity.
do you see how twisted i am on this? i definately should have put more time into thinking about names when i was pregnant. it's just that we kept hitting these same road blocks. i figured the answer would reveal itself the day he was born or very soon after. thank god he looked so much like tayloe - we might still be mulling over a formal name.
there's also this: he for sure has a lot, a whole lot, of tayloe in him, but slowly i'm seeing bits and pieces of me. for example, he eats like a bird just like me, prefering tasty little snacks over one large belly aching meal. if he had his father's love of noshing, he'd probably be in the 90th percentile for his weight right now. instead, he's in the 25th, tipping the scales at a lean, mean 8 lbs. 10 oz. and measuring 22 inches.
so i just keep trying things out. i ran through a few with a friend yesterday: jack, john, johnny, j.t., teetwo, tater, tatertot, tate, duo, deuce. t2 works for writing purposes and i don't mind calling him that sometimes, but it's not very personal. i mean, it's a letter and a number. is that all i've got?
his uncle geoff calls him deuce, which is a perfect name for an uncle to call a nephew. but a mother to a son? it almost seems cruel.
i think tayloe is a little conflicted on this too because his favorite name for him is little guy. not tops in the 'personal' catagory.
tate. TATE. ttttaaaatttteee. tate. tate. that one's on repeat in my brain. i'm gonna try it out for a few days.

Daddy Weighs IN

Thank heaven for little sisters. I was fortunate to enough to have a little sister named Mary born around the time I was 12. I must have learned something because its all coming back. The burping, the diaper changing, the back-handed pinkie finger drool slide up the face and back into open mouth move. I love that one. It's friday morning and Catherine's asleep and T-LO is hanging out with his paternal grandmother and loving life.

Life is good.

regularly scheduled programming

our boy is a little tease. the past two nights he's been back to the usual up every 3 1/2 to 4 hours. i can handle it - he is afterall just a baby - but the sweet taste of 7 straight sleeping hours still lingers.
i still love him. i even hold him and kiss him sometimes (see photo).
here's the deal: i love california. we have a blessed life here. however, it breaks my heart a little each day that we're far away from family. since my mom returned to north carolina, i've called her everyday with updates. sometimes i don't have an update cause it's just screaming and sleeping and pooing as usual, but i call anyway because i just want to talk. yesterday i called to ask her where the coffee filters are, not really expecting her to know.
i send her and my dad special photos. i update this blog as often as i can, partially because i know they're reading it. still, nothing can replace their loving arms. i want very badly for them to know their grandson. i hope i do a good job helping them.
tayloe's mom is set to arrive this afternoon and i know when she leaves i'll feel the exact same way.
awah holy crap & spank a midget. i'm getting all mushed out and my inner schedule nazi took the cue and went on a smoke break.
it's 1:38. time to make the doughnuts.

super snoozer

teetwo slept from 9:30 p.m. to 4:30 a..m. last night. seven full, uninterupted hours. i can honestly say this is the first time i've ever had prayers answered.
all day i've been trying to remember exactly what we did yesterday (did he get a hold of my vicodin?) and recreate those steps minute-by-minute. i'm non-detailed person who can't remember anything, so this has been challenging.
the only thing i know is that i fed him on time, so i'm back to being uber nazi uptight about keeping him on an eating schedule. i don't care if that means i have to feed him in a public bathroom in venice beach next to a gaggle of bums. homeboy isn't straying from the routine.
i told him this morning that he's opened a pretty knarly can of worms. in behaving beautifully, he's issued an enormous challenge that i'll no doubt have to rise to. now that i know he's capable of such a thing, i have to keep trying to make him do it over and over again. he needs only to have a brief convo with tayloe or wolly to understand how tedious his life is going to be from now on.
had he consulted his father, he would have learned never ever to do anything right for fear that you'll have to do it again. once tayloe put the bathmat back on the tub & closed the curtain after showering. i haven't let him forget it one single day of our married life.
our boy will be 45 and i'll say to him, "once, when you were three weeks old, you loved me so much you slept seven straight hours."
in the meantime everynight will be a cliffhanger for me. i'll drift off wondering if a scream will stir me in an hour, two, three ... seven? bedtime's a bitch.

there's no i in team

first, i just want to say that my time is so parceled out that i had to decide just now whether i should update this blog or pump breast milk. i don't have time for both. the bossman is going to want to saddle up to the 24-hour buffet soon and it's my job to have his meal waiting for him. it was a tough call - blog and use your brain a little; pump and spend another hour looking at your boob, which will log you in at approximately 6 hours today spent staring at your chest.
a couple of months back i said probably the stupidest thing i've ever said in my life. a girfriend of mine is still seeking a mate, but longs for a baby. eight months pregnant, i imparted this wisdom on her: raising a baby on your own wouldn't really be that hard.
WTF was i talking about? AND where do i get off? i am a rotten friend.
i'm sure it could be done. people do it and i admire them. it's just i'm really really really sure, more sure than i have ever been ever, that it's the toughest thing in the world. i'm also sure i could never do it.
if tayloe weren't around i'd be rocking silently in a corner somewhere in a room with padded walls.
this morning fussy mccrying pants was having a fit. tayloe took charge, plopped him in the baby sling thing and had him hushed in minutes. i did what i always do when tayloe takes on a task. i took pictures.
then, he was brave enough to take a phone call. so brave, right?
not me. no way. if it were me, as soon as i answered the phone, tay would belt out a scream which would scare the pees out of me. next i would drop the phone, which in turn would lead me to bend down and pick it up at which point tay would be dumped from the sling and onto his head on our hardwood floor. i'd have some explaining to do.
so i gotta say, t2, you're tops in my book -- make no mistake that i adore and love you. but your pops? he's the dude.

what he sees

yo, lady with the blonde hair & boobs? can you put down the camera for a sec and, erh, help me? there's a huge blue fish hanging from a bar in front of me and i think it has teeth. it definately has a gang of friends - something green and white and something else i can't quite make out. they're just hanging here in front of my face and i'm scared and we've been having a stare-off for like 2 hours and i'm pretty sure i'm going to lose.
while we're on the subject, i dig that you put flowers by my changing table cause i love looking at them (of course i know you're just trying to distract me), but the ones that are there now are, um, mean. i'm not kidding. yesterday the big purple one made fun of my ears. i prefer daisies because they're simple and kind and their vocabulary is limited.
thanks. i promise i'll eventually learn your name and quit smiling at you when i fart.
love, t2

mmmmmm BOP

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t2 had his first lunch with a celebrity in beverly hills today. sadly, he slept through the entire thing & contributed very little except some very cute cooos. maybe he was dreaming he was at lunch with a celebrity in beverly hills.
the picture above is no doubt one of the most shameless things i've ever done. if i look just a little bit retarded, it's because i was feeling just a little bit retarded. that's taylor hanson on my left, middle boy in the boy band hanson. here's the truth: i kinda had a thing for taylor hanson a while back. in a previous life i detailed my lust after i interviewed him for a web site i worked for. i had an autographed photo of the band above my desk for years. it says, "catherine: rock on! taylor hanson." i treasure it.
you gotta know, he has these gorgeous eyes and this very cute unassuming mild manner and this kinda cornfed truth about him. i am a sucker for all of these things.
so when tayloe told me he was having lunch with him today, i invited myself. and i brought my camera.
tayloe apparently finds my crushes amusing because he was quick to mention that taylor and i had met before (omg, blush infusion) and that i'd kept the autographed photo for quite some time (wink, wink) that mere weeks after meeting tayloR i met him, tayloE. get it? she loved tayloR and then she met tayloE and married him? yeah, i don't really get it either, but my husband thought it was funny.
and then later as we were leaving, el husbando asked if he could take some pictures of me and taylor and the baby. seriously, it was like being on a date with my dad tagging along.
of course, i'm overjoyed that all of this happened and that i have this photograph even if my hair looks funny and even if he's like, 45 lbs lighter than me.
if nothing else exciting happens in t2's life, he'll always have this picture. maybe someday i'll frame it for him. then, he can hang it over his desk at work.

my greatest accomplishment

i'm thrilled. we're just back from the doctor and tay's grown 2 and 1/2 inches and has gained 7 ozs. this is really good news because i've been pretty manic about feeding him and now i feel like i can down shift to just kinda manic. not only did we create this kid and successfully bring him into this world, but we're managing to keep him alive & thriving, too.
these were the doctor's exact words: "your boy is gorgeous and you're doing a great job." i wanted to kiss him right on the mouth and fall helplessly into his reassuring arms. this might be my proudest day ever.
my mom left this morning and now we're totally on our own. she was hell on our washing machine and kitchen, keeping up with laundry and making our meals. she's also the best baby burper and calmer on the planet.
i miss her already and i fully expect things to go to shit in the next couple of days.
since she's gone and i have no one to hand the baby off to while tayloe's working, i broke down and bought a rocker/bouncer/vibrating contraption thing to put tay in. i've put off this purchase because, frankly, the things are just so GD ugly. they're big and plastic and noisy and the very first thing you hide when company is coming over. the one i bought isn't an exception, but the person who sold it to me (praise the lord for craigslist) swore it soothed her baby and gave her fleeting moments of freedom. if this woman is lying to me just to get me to buy her used baby crap, i'm going to hunt her down later and kill her. really.
not that tay's been a handful. he hardly throws fits at all (except yesterday when he screamed so loud so suddenly i nearly pooped my pants), but it's bound to happen sometime and as out of character as it seems for me, i'm going to be ready.
ok, that's a lie. i'm just anxious to try out the' vibrate' mode.

the exorcism

i short circuited last night and had a complete meltdown. it all just started to feel so HUGE, so incredibly HUGE and grown up and like nothing i'd ever done before. i mean, i've done some scary stuff. getting engaged to tayloe after only knowing him for 2 months, for example. but this suddenly was freakin enormously, gigantically scary.
i'd look at the baby and think about how he trusts us completely and just cry because i kept thinking if he knew the truth (that, um, i was a sobbing mess who could barely mutter a complete, coherent sentence) he might not so much. in fact, he might pack his bags and go home with my mom.
the good news is i'm pretty sure i exorcized the bitch - at least the bad parts of her. i kept a little bit of sass for emergencies.
needless to say i was in dire need of some refreshment, so we went to the beach this morning with the dog. it's a beautiful day and i feel so much better and now things are good.
so did i mention that my doctor didn't deliver tay? oh sure, gander a guess at his whereabouts. that's right. golfing. in utah. isn't that just precious? all along i was completely and totally right. he was trying to will our baby to be born late so he could recreate peacefully and without guilt.
a stranger named dr. edwards delivered the baby which i didn't mind at all except when he'd say, "this is why they call it labor" in response to my screams. i'm not mad at my doctor. i've said before he's way too fresh to be angry with. plus, he came to visit us and gave me vicodin and apologized. that's all a gal can ask for, really.

who do i look like?

rager

sometimes the only way to deal with something not so pleasant is to be honest about it. so here it is. i've been a crazy raging bitch lately. i have moments when i'm not a bitch, sure, but more often than not i'm thinking horrible things and sometimes i say them outloud. it's like i have tourettes. i can't stop myself from blurting out hatred.
here's an example. two days ago i was in my new favorite store, the pump station (it is what you think it is), and the checkout was taking way too long. it was taking long because the woman in front of me was trying to exchange a breast pump that had a bum battery and for some reason it took the three people behind the counter, plus the store manager, plus the woman who was exchanging it to figure out what to do. send the whole pump back to the company? replace the battery? give her a refund? you'd of thought they were trying to decided whether or not to drop the a-bomb.
anyway, the bitch flared up and i said exactly what i was thinking, which was, "ladies, does it really take four people to solve what seems to be a pretty simple breast pump problem?" (omg, did i just say that out loud?)
other nastiness of note this week: i gave some punk in an audi the bird for cutting me off and machine-gunned cuss words at him with my mother in the car; i've said more than once to tayloe "you need to take a shower" when really i think i'm the one who smells; and (poor tayloe) i actually asked him not to move around so much while he's sleeping.
this is me: "hi, sweetheart, you know i love you, but could you please not move at night? no i mean, please don't even roll over. not even once. and if you can, please try not to breathe."
seriously, the government should send post-partum women to war - i bet most wouldn't think twice about donning a machine gun and firing off a few (hundred thousand) rounds.
i haven't felt this moody since i ripped the cover of "what to expect when you're expecting" into 4,000 little pieces because the cheesy sketch of the dopey woman with a quilt & baby in a rocking chair made me see red. that was early in the first trimester.
anyway, i want this crazy lady to go away (not you mom), and i thought that maybe shining a bright light on her ugly little head might help. be free, little bitch. go bug someone else.
and also, tayloe husband? you're a saint and i love your little angle wings with all my heart. please keep breathing at night.

crazy toes

i spend a lot of time feeding tay. we turn the tv off and put some music on and then i just sit there google-eyed gazing at him, singing whatever song the ipod chooses for us.
today i decided that his feet are my favorite thing to look at. it's probably because they're really the only part of him that i recognize as me. his toes are long and lanky and a bit crooked - not at all perfect. in fact, quite laughable, just like mine. i think about all the parts of the body and wonder why god decided this was the part of me he'd pass on to him.
tomorrow grandjane (i should say SUPER grandjane. she's been a dream) and i are taking him to target and i'm kinda excited because i'll get to use the stroller and i really need the practice. on sunday, we ventured out to the farmers market near our house. wheeling him around, i ran over some lady's sandled foot and banged the carriage into a trashcan. i also got considerably frustrated trying to manuver around people. not really knowing which way to go, i was like a squirrel about to get squashed by a mac truck.
left. right. no left. no right. ok, left. right?
finally, everyone asks so i'll fill you in: he's been sleeping well. i've been doing this side lying feeding hold thing at night so i just roll him out of the bassinet attached to our bed and in next to me. i decided to do this after the horrific night where wolly had a seizure and i hallucinated about people in the attic. now i have to wake up, but i don't actually have to get up, which is the difference between a mom who is happy and a mom who is a total bitch the next day.
the night feedings are funny. he does a lot of snorting and head wiggling and i can't see wtf i'm doing so i have this camping headlamp that i turn on just to make sure the arrow is at least close to the target. when he finally settles in next to me and then drifts off to sleep i feel like superwoman.
new photos are on flickr.