The Scoop on Poop

Caedmon pooped on me yesterday. But when you spent the first two weeks of your baby's life putting suppositories up his bum to get him to poop, you really don't mind if he gets poop on your clean jeans. :-)

Breastfeeding Day

It feels like today has been a holiday for breastfeeding or something. La Leche League meeting in the morning. Lactation consultant in the afternoon. I'm too tired to go into any details, but we're back on the herbal supplements and trying to get the supply up. After listening to Caedmon scream in the backseat during all our travels. I need some quiet time.

Milk Connoisseur and other thoughts...

Caedmon is a milk connoisseur. He prefers his milk fresh from the source and anything else makes him downright pissed. Part of me is proud of this. I think, "That's right. My baby's smart enough to know the good stuff, to know what's best for him, and to accept no substitutes." But then I hear him screaming from two rooms away as I am heading for the church nursery, buzzing parent pager in hand. I know some folks (I just said folks. I think I've been listening to too much Sarah Palin) would say it's the way I parent him, but I just don't agree. Babies are babies, and there's not much you can do about that. They have their own personalities, and they're too young to understand that sometimes you have to bend a little. For example, Caedmon really doesn't understand when I tell him, "Hey Buddy, Mom's going to take you out of this car seat when she gets to Publix in ten minutes." All he knows is that he doesn't like the car seat (for whatever unknown reason that I wish I could fix). I could point out families that have more than one child or multiples, and the fact that they are all raised the same way, yet some are easy and some are high-need.

Which brings me to another point. I have been guilty of this before but I try to watch my wording. So-called "good" babies aren't "good" they are simply easy. Because if those babies are good, that makes my baby bad. And my baby isn't bad, he is "high-need."

Well, I didn't really mean for this to be such a long drawn out post that got into my personal parenting beliefs and philosophies. All I really meant to say is that I have mixed emotions about Caedmon's displeasure with the bottle. Mommy would really like to be able to get leave you with daddy and go get a massage some Saturday, don't cha know?

On a lighter note, love this video...



Note: I guess I should have clarified since my own mom thought that was me and Caedmon in the video above...this is a funny video I ran across on YouTube.

Fisher Price and the ED Stricken Dragonfly

A few reasons why I won't be buying any more Fisher Price products:

Last month, I did something I almost never do. I saw a picture of something in a magazine, decided Caedmon had to have it, read some reviews (I hadn't completely lost it), and went out and bought it all in the same day. That product was the Fisher Price Rainforest Jumperoo. Since I am trying (trying being the operative word) to take a minimalist/natural approach to this whole mothering thing (i.e. wooden and cloth toys rather than plastic and only what we need), I felt really guilty even as I was standing in line to purchase it. Well, it turns out the people in the reviews must have much larger 2 month olds than I did (not surprising since he is in the 40th percentile for length and 10th percentile for weight) because he was way to small for it and just flopped around. But that's all beside the point. Here's where my issue with Fisher Price comes in...the following is from a post I made to the June Firefly group on iVillage not long after I bought it:

The picture on the box of the jumperoo shows the dragonfly standing straight up. When I got it home and assembled it, it just flopped over. Thinking I had a defective firefly, I called Fisher Price. They informed me that they just made it stand up for the picture, it's supposed to flop over. Now, I know this is a small thing, but isn't that false advertising. The firefly looks broke just hanging there, and when you pay as much for a toy as the jumperoo costs, you should get what they advertise it as. I'll be a bit more leery of Fisher Price in the future. For the price they charge, their toys seem a bit cheap looking. Anyway, I hope this helps anyone considering it. I may have bought it anyway, but it would be nice to have known before hand.

Here's what it looks like on the box:



Here's what it actually looks like (by the way, that look is Caedmon wondering why his semi-crunchy mom bought him this obnoxious piece of crap that is probably full of phthalates and BPA):



So there's my experience with Fisher Price. But I've also read more and more that they won't disclose their ingredients and instead try to convince parents that there is nothing wrong with phthalates and BPA (both known hormone disrupters). Here's a link to a blog I read that pretty much cinched my decision to not give any more money to Fisher Price (at least until Caedmon starts asking Santa for the newest Tickle-Me-Elmo...dang you Sesame Street and your combination of educational value and childhood nostalgia):

SafeMama: Boycotting Fisher Price

And that is all I have to say about that.

Tidbits

Does anyone else think that MySpace's catchphrase should be MySpace: A Place for Ads instead of MySpace: A Place for Friends?

Caedmon started picking up toys today.

Breaking in the New Jeans

While carrying Caedmon in the Baby Bjorn around Burlington Coat Factory today, he managed to pee down the front of my new jeans and onto my shoes while only getting a few drops on himself. Now that's talent.

I'm so excited...

Okay, I got too excited about the thoughts of writing real blogs that I didn't write my one sentence yesterday because I didn't have time to write everything I wanted to write. So today I will just give you some short sentences about my life:

• Caedmon peed all over everything while I was changing his diaper at church today.
• I hate Seventh Generation diapers (more on this later).
• I am on a quest to find a good massage therapist close to home.

That's all for now.

Some Things Are in the Eye of the Beholder

Is there really any way to tell who "won" a presidential debate if neither party crumbled under the pressure or caused the voters' opinion of them to plummet? It seems that everyone wants to think that their candidate won. Personally, I thought Palin did a good job of redeeming herself last night (and BBC America agrees with me, so I can't be all wrong). I don't know much about Biden, but he seems like an okay guy. It's too bad he's running with Obama. I liked Obama for a while, but here's my issues with him. First of all, most of the people I've run into who support Obama aren't so much supporters as they are fans, and that bugs the crap out of me. These are probably the same people who have bumper stickers on their cars that say "Nobody Died While Clinton was in Office." If you think that is true, maybe you should check your history books (or at the very least, the obituaries circa 1993-2000). Second, Obama reminds me of someone running for SGA president. He's promising to give faculty parking to the seniors and put drink machines in the cafeteria, but he doesn't really understand that that is easier said than done and quite possibly impossible. But that's just my opinion. I don't have time for details; I have a four month old.

Things They Don't Tell You Part 1

I should be preparing my brussel sprouts for dinner tonight, but I'm not. Here's some advice for the preggos out there that I wish someone had told me. If you are breastfeeding and you plan to pump at all, even just once a week, shell out the money for the Medela Pump in Style. Honestly, if I knew for a fact it would work better, I would go buy one right now. But here's the deal (in easy to read bullet points for your convienence):

• Even if you are a SAHM and are just building up a milk bank for back up, etc., sitting and pumping for 30 minutes to get an average of 1.25 oz (yes, you read that right) is no fun.
• And guess what? 30 minutes is hard to find when you are at home with a baby who actually nurses all the time. Double pumping = half the time.
• Studies have shown that double pumping increases prolactin levels meaning pumping is more productive and does a better job of boosting your milk supply.

So if you're picking out a pump and you are committed to breastfeeding, please do yourself a favor and get the good one. Then, unlike me, you will be less likely to find yourself crying over spilled milk when one of your storage bags leaks.


This bottle represents 30 minutes of my life. It is not even half of a feeding.

High-Need Babies

Dr. Sears says that high-need babies make better parents. I try to remind myself of this when I have spent 90% of my waking hours nursing, Caedmon won't take a nap, and he doesn't want to be worn in a carrier, but refuses to be put down. I'm convinced there were subliminal messages in that recording of Oh, the Places You Will Go that C sent from the boat telling him that I needed to be edified.

Sleeping Arrangements

Recently, Caedmon likes to sleep with his head tucked into my armpit. This only makes it more important that I try to get a shower at least every couple of days...

Feeble Attempts at Blogging

Okay, so I've decided to attempt blogging. My goal is to write just one sentence each day. If it is more than that, great. If not, well, at least all these thoughts in my head will slowly trickle out. So what's on the plate for today. Caedmon is taking a nap. It's a beautiful thing.

Yesterday, the little man survived his first day in the nursery at church. And Mom survived her second separation from him (the first being a dentist appointment on Thursday).

Well, no brilliant thoughts for today, but it's a start.

Brandy's Funny Pregnancy Moment of the Day

I've had to put a roll of paper on the counter next to the toilet because I can't lean over far enough to reach the paper on the wall. I hope this wasn't TMI.

Brandy's Thought for the Day

People who think that a normal pregnancy is ten months can't count. That or they don't understand that no matter how the doctors and books choose to count it, you are not actually pregnant until sperm meets egg. To prove my point, let me explain how I calculated my due date:

Date of Conception + 9 Months - 1 Week = D-Day

Now, I'm not counting going past your due date, but since they induce at two weeks past your due date, the most you could be pregnant is nine and a half months. Okay, I'm glad I got that off my chest. By the way, I suck at math.

Pregnancy Side Effect No. 212

I can't remember lyrics. For those of you who know me well, you know how completely unheard of this is. Songs I've been listening to for years, completely gone. Watermelon has become my anthem. The baby's taken my brain!

Cuts Like a Butter Knife

(This post is dedicated to Jamie Noseboulder's faithful sidekick, Valmo.)

I just saw the video for "Jesus Freak." After I got past my schoolgirl crush on K. Max, I realized how ridiculously cheesy the video is. Then I realized that it only seems really cheesy because it is really dated circa 1995. It's really not cheesy if you compare it to something like Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" or "Heart-shaped Box." Then I realized how old I am. Oh, my.

What's in a name?

I'm beginning to understand why people name their kids things like "Apple." I'm going to leave it at that for right now. I'll get back to you on January 14th when, hopefully, I'll know what I have to work with. :-)

Minor Observations

I was reading an article on the Huffington Post about the return of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report, and I couldn't help but notice that much of the comments on the post sounded like dialogue from The Newsies. I honestly did not know that people still use the word "scab" in that context. Not to be disrespectful to the hard-working writers out there, but you are a creative lot, couldn't you come up with something a little more 21st century? I just can't take you seriously when you're saying things like "you dirty rotten scabs."

Good days, Bad days

The frustrating thing about morning sickness is that just when you think it's getting better, it turns around on you. I had a couple of good days this week. I even managed to make myself some Hamburger Helper Cheeseburger Mac. Then today I gagged both times I tried to take my vitamins.

Today has been a mixed bag. I woke up this morning at 8:00 (I went to sleep at about 3:30am - I'm a night owl, what can I say?) , and I couldn't get back to sleep until I checked for an email from Collin and had a bowl of cereal. I don't want to sound all Sarah Smileyee, but there are some mornings when I can't sleep until I know that he's okay, and no one's going to knock on my door and destroy my life. I probably wouldn't even think of these things if there weren't all these dramatic Navy wives going around describing the scene in detail. Even if you're talking about an event that actually happened, you should be careful how you spread those negative thoughts around.

Then I received one of my weekly updates on what is going on in my uterus, and the picture looks like a baby. It actually is looking like a baby. Well, that made me all weepy. I guess I should get it out of my system before the ultrasound because I don't like to cry in front of strangers, especially by myself.

Here are some things that make my day better:

Flowers from my nephews.























And fluffy slippers from Jon and Leslie.