Spic n Span

We had another great weekend.  We got to hang out with our sweet, smart, fun niece Norah on Friday night.  We visited friends on both Saturday and Sunday.  Brian took a long nap on Saturday, I took one on Sunday.  I went out to dinner with a friend on Saturday night.  Rhys slept well both nights.  The weather was decent.

All good things.  What was great, though, was what didn't happen.  We didn't clean the house.  And why?  Because we hired cleaners to do it.  Perhaps this makes us fancy.  Perhaps this makes us lazy.  Perhaps this makes us snobby.  I do not care.  I loved coming home on Thursday evening to a clean house and I really loved not having to clean on the weekend. 

Our house is small, yes.  But our free time together is even smaller.  I see Rhys so little during the week and soon the same will be true for Brian.  We figure if we can free up even just a few hours to allow for more quality time with Rhys, why not.  When he's older we'll put him to work and all clean house together.  For now, we're going to enjoy letting someone else do it.  

And here's a cute picture of Rhys that has nothing to do with this posting.  I figure I can entice folks to continue visiting our blog and reading my writing if there's always the promise of a cute picture.

Feed Me

In the last week or two, Rhys has really made the connection that bottle = food.  Previously, he'd see the bottle and be fairly indifferent.  Nowadays?  He knows what's in there and he is psyched!  He reaches out for it, makes cute noises of excitement and opens his little mouth as wide as it will go.  Check it out...

Rhys' excitement for food is extending beyond the bottle to table.  We haven't fed him any solids yet, but he will clearly be ready soon.  Maybe not soon enough, in his opinion.  When we eat with him in our laps, he reaches for our food and, frankly, seems a little ticked that he's not getting any.  We've let him suck on a few different things, which he's seemed to enjoy, but the tiny bit of scrambled egg we gave him did not go over well at all.  The look on his face was priceless.  I was surprised he had such a strong reaction to egg given that he barely batted an eye when he sucked on a pickle spear. 

When Rhys is ready for solids (we're waiting for his six month b-day and a little more head control), Brian and I are going to eschew conventional "wisdom" and skip the rice cereal.  We're planning to give him an avocado, perhaps even guacamole.  That will be a fun and messy day.       

Do I need an excuse...

...to post a picture this cute?  No.  No I do not.

Oh Happy Day

What a wonderful day.  I'd like to say that my cheery personality causes me to say those words at the end of every day, but that would be a lie.  I do try and find things in each day to be grateful for, but sometimes it can be an effort.  Today, was effortless.  Today, my gratitude cup runneth over...

1.  Brian.  He's always at the top of my list.  Even on my worst days, I am incredibly grateful to have such a loving, compassionate and caring husband.

2.  Rhys.  "Bundle of joy" is a phrase thrown around a lot in the context of newborns.  Those wee little newborns are sweet and all, but they've got nothing on 5-month olds.  Rhys is truly a bundle of joy.

    
3.  The kindness and humor of strangers.  Today we went out for lunch and as we were finishing up a lovely couple approached us and said, "We just wanted to say we're so sorry you have such an ugly baby.  He's hideous to look at and is clearly unhappy too."

4.  Colorful flowers (and the man who planted them).  Our yard is bursting with gorgeous tulips and it makes me so happy every time I look at them.  And who planted them?  Brian, of course.  I know I already mentioned him, but he's worth mentioning again.

     

5.  Sunshine!  The weather was gorgeous today.  Sun makes me so very, very happy.  Not to be greedy, but I hope this summer brings many more days like today.  We put Rhys in shorts and he looked adorable. 

6.  My health.  As many of you know, recovering from Rhys' delivery has been a rough road for me.  I *finally* feel like I've turned a corner.  I'm not 100% yet, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  I even did a workout DVD tonight which felt great.

7.  Alcohol.  My post-workout treat was a Strongbow (hard cider).  I've found that alcohol makes the bad days bearable and the good days that much better - a win-win!  (I'm actually not an alcoholic, despite what that last sentence may seem to indicate.)  

8.  Sleep.  No posting of mine would be complete without a mention of sleep.  Rhys is sleeping well, which means we're all sleeping well.  I even managed a nap today.  And while Rhys and I slept, Brian did the grocery shopping.  Have I told you how grateful I am for that man?

Rhys Week Recap

Hi All,

My Mama is pretty tired tonight, so she asked me to do the blog for her.  I don't have any subjects that I want to rant about (e.g. sleep, attachment parenting, breastfeeding, etc.), so I figure I'll just tell you about my week.  Dad took some cute pics of me that will help me with my story.  Hope you enjoy.

Love, 

Rhys

Auntie Dawn and Uncle Pat got me these cool teething rings.  I've been using them a lot to practice my reach and grab skills.

 My friend Lucas got me this ball before I was even born and it's one of my favorite toys.  I like to try and roll towards it when Dad puts it out of reach.   

 Everyone tells me how cute I look and this hat and, I gotta say, they're right!   

A little naked tummy time before bed.

 Sharing my play mat with Elliott.  Again.  One of these days I'm going to show him who's boss.

 We visited Mama at her office!  She put me right to work.

Luckily, we took a lunch break before I got too tired.

And, finally, I got to sit in my favorite chair with a whole bunch of my toys.  What a week!!

Breast is Best (?)

What to feed our infant son was not a question I grappled with during my pregnancy.  Breast milk is best; he would have breast milk.  Period.  End of story.  Knowing that parenthood would be full of questions for which there were no right answers, I relished the certainty of this answer.  I remember thinking: there’s no gray area here.  This is black and white, we’ll deal with gray later.

Grayness rolled in as my nipples bled and I cried buckets of tears over the pain and the dread I felt about feeding Rhys.  I’d known that breastfeeding might not go perfectly and my grand plan had simply been to get online, find a good lactation consultant and give her a call.  This was a useless plan when overwhelmed, exhausted and suffering at 3am.

Several weeks, two lactation consultants, a pediatrician with a breastfeeding specialty, and an osteopath (google it) later, we still hadn’t established a successful nursing relationship.  The next step was occupational therapy at Children’s Hospital.  I couldn’t do it.  I was still overwhelmed, exhausted and suffering and I just couldn’t do anything else to try and make breastfeeding work. 

 

But in my mind, the issue was still black and white.  Breast milk is best.  So I pumped.  And pumped.  And pumped.  For a few days, it was great.  It was pain-free and Rhys was getting my milk – problem solved.  Except that I wasn’t feeding and bonding with my son, I was hooked up to a machine.  Except that I couldn’t leave the house for more than three hours because I had to maintain a rigid pumping schedule in order to keep up my milk supply.  Except that I was up for hours at night caught in an endless cycle of bottle feeding, soothing Rhys to sleep and pumping.  Except that I couldn't nap when Rhys napped because I had to pump.  Except that I wanted to cry every time I saw a mom nursing her baby. 

Problem not solved.

More tears.  More pain, this time emotional.  Severe anxiety.  Dark thoughts.  Not enjoying my son. And yet I kept pumping.  Despite how horrible I felt, I simply could not stop.  Breast is best.  Breast is best.  Breast is best.  I could not get those words out of my head. 

Perhaps, though, when mom hates life and wishes she weren’t here, breast is not best.  Perhaps when a baby cries because he can’t latch and is hungry, breast is not best.  I’m finally allowing myself to even consider these possibilities.  I know it seems absurd, but for the women of my generation (particularly a Seattle woman) the indoctrination of this philosophy is merciless.  Even formula companies tell us that breast milk is best!

I often ponder the question of when breast is not best while I pump.  Oh the irony.  Though doing so took me to the edge of despair, I am very proud to have given Rhys breast milk for five months.  (And, though the boobs are mine, a lot of credit goes to Brian as he agreed to feed at night while I pumped.  The schedule was impossible to maintain without his help.)  Rhys will have breast milk for at least another month and then we’ll see.  I plan to cut back on pumping because I am SO tired of it, but I may keep it up to some extent because, in case you didn't know, breast is best.

Rhys' 1,156th (give or take) bottle of breast milk

An Apple a Day

Yesterday, Brian and Rhys did some shopping.

 BEFORE

AFTER 

Enough said.

Best. Night. Yet. (except for Florida)

Rhys only woke up once last night:  1am and then back to sleep until 6:30am.  And the best part, well, for me anyway, was that Brian did the feeding.  So I slept from 10pm until 6am with just a minor wake up when Rhys (and Brian) got up.  I felt amazing today…almost as good as when I went to Florida and had two consecutive 8-hour sleep nights.  While I was still on maternity leave, my boss contacted me about traveling to Florida for a planning meeting the week after I returned to work.  I immediately started fantasizing about a full night or two of sleep and after talking it over with Brian, I decided to go.  Yes, Brian is an amazing husband and father.  He sent his wife off to the Florida Keys for sun, sleep and a couple hours of work while he stayed home with our son.  I must have been a saint in a former life to deserve this man.

Leading up to my trip, I started to worry about how much I would miss Rhys and Brian.  But my bigger worry?  That I would not be able to sleep when I was there.  Yes, I recognize that this does not qualify me for wife/mom of the year.  Have I mentioned how poorly I deal with sleep deprivation?  I used to be a champion sleeper, but since Rhys’ arrival I’d had all kinds of trouble.  I started having nightmarish visions of me snuggled up in my hotel bed with everything I needed for a good night of sleep (read: no baby) and NOT being able to sleep.  It was a horrifying possibility.

Fortunately, that did not happen.  Rather, I had two wonderful, peaceful, restful nights of sleep.  I didn’t have trouble falling asleep.  I didn’t wake up to go to the bathroom.  I didn’t have weird dreams.  I wasn’t too hot.  I wasn’t too cold.  I slept and slept and slept and felt human again.

In my defense, I came home and 1) had a game plan for how to get Rhys to sleep better as I’d spent a bunch of time on the plane reading sleep books and 2) offered to send Brian to his folks or a hotel for a night (which he declined). 

As an aside, the other thing I came home with was over 100 ounces of breast milk.  I had it all in a cooler and was so geared up for a fight to take it through security that I was nearly shaking.  All for nothing.  TSA did not even open the cooler.  Talk about shock and awe.

     

So, the morals of this story? 
1. Cheryl loves sleep. 
2. TSA is ridiculous. 
3. Brian is perfect. Well, almost...  

Tonight he tried to feed Rhys Rainier beer.  I mean really, Brian, if you’re going to feed our kid beer, can’t you pick something a little more sophisticated.

Proud Papa

Rhys has been working on his rolling skills.  Awhile ago (you know, like a whole month ago) he rolled from his belly to his back.  He only did it a handful of times and more than anything it seemed to simply be a function of his big head (90th percentile) throwing him off balance during tummy time (so he ended up on his back).  More recently, though, he's been rolling from back to his tummy and this has been very intentional.  The problem is, once he gets on his belly he starts grunting and is annoyed that he's there and confused as to how he got there.  Today, though, was different.  Proud Papa Brian called me mid-morning to report that Rhys made it from back to belly to back.  Yeah, Rhys!

Rhys' friend Milena is about two weeks older than his is, but she has been rolling for awhile now.  She's pretty advanced.  She and her mom Monique (who happens to be a friend of ours) visited awhile back and the two babies enjoyed some time on the play mat.

Rhys:  Don't you hate tummy time?  It's so hard.  Not to mention, I feel so exposed.  Can't my parents buy me some clothes that fit?  Or at least raid my friend Noah's closet again?

Milena:  I think tummy time is great.  It helps that I'm pocket-sized.  Also, as soon as I get tired I just roll onto my back.  Watch me.

Rhys:  Whoa!  How'd you do that?

Happy Feet

There aren't many things around that are much cuter than a baby's feet.   I always insist that Rhys wear socks since I'm just *sure* his feet are cold (since mine are always cold), but just this once I allowed him to be without socks (and pants!). 

Sweet Babies

Prior to Rhys' arrival, I referred to our cats as "sweet babies."  While on maternity leave, they were resolutely not my sweet babies as they were constantly jumping on the counters (where they know they're not supposed to be) and trying to escape outside every time I opened the door.  Now that I'm back to work and not dealing with their antics all day long, I once again find them to be sweet babies.

Not surprisingly, Jacques and Elliott love Rhys' stuff...all of it...even the Bumbo chair: 

That's Jacques in the chair.  Elliott is fatter (he prefers the term big-boned) so the playmat is his preference.    

A Room for Rhys

Some people deal ok with sleep deprivation.  I am not one of those people.  I've always known that I need a lot of sleep, but I thought I'd be so blissed out by my sweet newborn baby that lack of sleep wouldn't be an issue.  At the very least, I figured I'd have no problem napping when Rhys did ("sleep when the baby sleeps") as napping has always been a favorite hobby of mine.  Neither of those proved to be true at all.  Rhys was, of course, a very sweet newborn but I was not blissed out to the extent that no sleep was required.  And, thanks to the crazy cocktails of hormones cursing through me plus the severe anxiety I was experiencing over feeding the little guy, I couldn't sleep when he slept.  Miserable does not begin to describe how I felt.  Brian reports that, yes, he felt very tired during those first weeks.  I felt like I was being tortured within inches of my life.

In retrospect, a big part of the problem was that the only parenting books I'd read prior to Rhys' birth were in the vein of "attachment parenting."  For those of you unfamiliar with that term, it's basically the idea that babies want and need your close, loving presence and you demonstrate that to them by wearing them in a sling all the time, breastfeeding on demand and co-sleeping.  These ideas all sounded perfectly reasonable to me, so I figured I'd just put Rhys in our Ergo carrier, feed him when he was hungry, sleep with him in our bed (or at least nearby) and go about my life.   Or, not.  He hated the sling, breastfeeding was a nightmare and sleeping with him was awful as I was scared to move and he was LOUD (stop grunting kid!).

Attachment parenting also teaches that babies do not know how to fall asleep on their own so it's kind of cruel to just lay them down and let them fall asleep.  The implication is that this will only lead to crying.  So, Brian and I spent the first four months of Rhys' life making sure he was fast asleep before we put him down.  Our tried and true method was to hold him while we bounced on the exercise ball.

Another sleep teaching of this philosophy is that babies will sleep when they're tired...no biggie.  One book even says something to the extent of "it's not clear who needs naps more, the baby or the caretaker of the baby."  As if babies don't need to nap?!?  (I can say now, incredulously).  

 The overarching philosophy of attachment parenting is great...who wouldn't want to provide their infant with a warm, loving, reassurance presence?  But, the way it plays out in the realm of sleep stinks, in my humble opinion.

For us, anyway, what has finally gotten us to a good place with regards to sleep is:

1.  A crib for Rhys in his own room.
2.  Watching for his drowsy signs and putting him in his crib when he's clearly sleepy, but still awake.  He is learning to fall asleep on his own!  An extremely important life skill.  Usually he tosses and turn a bit and plays with his lovely and falls asleep within 15 minutes.  If he fusses, we go to him and reassure him with a pacifier and some soothing pats.  It's amazing.  I wonder how many hours we spent bouncing him on that damn exercise ball when he just wanted to be put down so he could go to sleep.  
2a.  Making sure Rhys naps well during the day.  For whatever reason, good day sleep leads to good night sleep.         
 3.  No more swaddling.  All credit goes to Brian for this.  Early on, swaddling had facilitated some long stretches of sleep, so I was so scared to give it up.  Brian insisted it was a good idea and he was absolutely right.  Rhys clearly loves to stretch and move when he sleeps (it's actually quite entertaining to watch). 

This has turned into a long sleep rant.  I think I just needed to document my thoughts on all of this so if Brian and I ever brave the territory of a second child, I will remember what I've learned.  I promise to make future posts more fun, uplifting and full of pictures of our sweet Rhys.  In the meantime, here are some pictures of his sweet room.

Both the quilt on the wall and the floor are Gramma Mary Pat's handiwork.

A very thoughtful gift from the Carpenter family.

The stained glass was made by Grandpa John.  The stuffed animals are gifts from friends and family.

Great Grandma Loma's rocking chair.

Our nightly bedtime story...a gift from my sister Audrey.

Lamby.  Rhys sleeps with him and not us...yeah!

Rocket Science?

I've spent the last 30 minutes trying to figure out how to get this dang thing set up.  I should probably just stick to e-mail updates, but it's good for me to learn something new, right?  I'm fairly convinced that I will forget most of Rhys' childhood unless I document it, so I will learn how to blog.  Facebook, though, is an entirely different story.  I still can't find the motivation to get on there.  Even Uncle Carl is on, but Brian and I are holdouts.