not a Triscuit

Yeah, I know. It's been a while. But, I'm going to try to cronicle motherhood in my blog. Don't roll your eyes like that. I said, "try".
Everyone says that time flys once you have children. I believe this. I spent the first three months of my pregnancy looking forward to the day I didn't feel like vomiting anymore. Once that day came, I was looking forward to the Dr's visit when we could find out the sex of the baby. Once that came, I was looking forward, to being really really big and pregnant so that people would stop looking at me in confusion, wanting to ask when I was due, but being too afraid to offend me in the event that I was just overweight. You'll say here, oh, you can't tell that someone is thinking that... but you totally can. It's the confused look at the belly that does it. So after that I was looking forward to Lamaze classes being over, and the to my last day at work, and then to the day that I got all of the baby clothes folded and put away, and then to the delivery. And now, I'm looking forward to the baby's first smile.

It's been almost a year since I found out I was pregnant and what a long strange trip it's been.

I'm staying home with the baby for now. It's hard. I'm so sleep deprived, I feel like I just came back from working raceweek at the Speedway. Except I've been this way for a month now. I sleep in two hour intervals. And sometimes it feels like two hours is just a waste of time. Right now I'm a slave to my little one. When he decides he wants to sleep, we sleep. When he decides he wants to eat, we eat. When Daddy comes home from work, baby sleeps, Daddy holds and Mommy takes a shower to wash the dried spit-up from her hair and then goes to the kitchen to eat something that's not a Triscuit or a handful of Sunchips.
I knew that it was going to be hard moving to the "Hood". Motherhood that is. I knew that there would be consecutive days where I didn't brush my teeth, or get more than 4 hours of sleep. I knew I wouldn't be able to go to Starbucks on a whim, (Yes, you can tell the difference in Decaf and regular) and I would be giving up all caffine... and chocolate... and onions... and garlic... and sleep... oh wait I said that already. I knew all of this, and hell, I even signed up for it.

It's frustrating sometimes. For a couple of reasons, not the least of which is that our little angel, sometimes screams for a couple of hours and pants from the pain of the gas he is experiencing. It's so pitful. And there is just nothing that you can do to help. We have the gas drops, the crib mattress is elevated, I don't eat gas causing foods, I've tried different breastfeeding postions, drinking lots of water, burping frequently, holding upright for 30 minutes after he eats so the food can digest - (This is way fun at 4am), I've consulted the books, the internet and the girlfriends and everyone says the dreaded word... colic. I'm in the process of consulting the Dr. so we will see if she says the C word also.

It's so pitiful to see him writhing in pain. I keep thinking that I did something wrong when I was pregnant, that I'm doing something wrong now, that my maternal instinct isn't kicking in like it's supposed to.. It's so hard to listen to him cry for hours and not be able to do anything about it. I do understand though what everyone that has kids means when they say it's completely worth it. It's worth it now and he's only 4 weeks old.

So that's the update. That should give you enough information to know where our heroine is at in the story. (Heroine... that's me silly).
I'll try to keep updating.

MAYBE GETTING HER BUTT KICKED FOR A FEW MONTHS WAS JUST WHAT SHE NEEDED

The holidays. What a rush. We had a blast in Charlotte. Much thanks to Mikey for the LAN and everyone else for arranging their schedules last minute to work us in. We experienced the durian fruit, slept late, ate and drank much and got lots of really great stuff. We gave some really great stuff too... Although if still in Cali next year for Christmas, everyone should expect something from Amazon.com. Packing everything and getting it home was a pain. Plus once it gets home... it all has to be wrapped. We left Norma Jean with Mom where she seems to be happier and healthier. We let her out of her cat bag after 12 hours of travel and she hopped onto the bed and immediately began exploring the area. She didn't hide under the bed or in the closet once. And. She's not beating up on Mom's cats anymore. Maybe getting her butt kicked for a few months was just what she needed.
Pink is still looking around for her. Yesterday he stared up in the videos where she used to hide for a good 15 minutes. He's investigated the closets and in the computer desk where she used to hide. Then, he actually has the gaul to walk around the house crying, while he's looking for her.

New Years Resolutions. Jorma has decided to stop using profanity this year. We are going to have to put a "cuss jar" or "profanity receptacle" in the house. You know, drop a quarter in every time profanity is uttered. I'm going to donate the jar too. The proceeds from the jar go into what we fondly call, "The Ireland Fund" which is where all money found on the floor, loose about the house and in pant pockets when doing laundry lives.
My resolution is to get a little healthier. ok. Get a lot healthier. Since I was doing the South Beach diet before the holidays, I think I will be able to fall back into that habit with no problem. Except I'm going to try to eat lower in fat too. So low-carb, low-fat. It has been nice over the holidays however, to just eat whatever I want and not have to count carbs, or struggle with what is going to be for lunch that day. It has been especially nice, not eating salad for lunch everyday. Which is what we were doing on the South Beach. Mostly because it's easier to run to the grocery and get a salad than it is to pack the lunch every day.

Tomorrow the vacation is officially over and it's back to work. Thank God, we have MLK jr. holiday in two weeks. It's hard to go from all this time off back into weeks and weeks of work with no light at the end of the tunnel.