Abby+Olly

Perchance to breathe...

If you've ever watched someone sleep, with their chest rising and falling, soothing you with predictability, you will feel each exhale lulling you toward the peace that only the sleeping feel. Each breath ebbs in and out as though a moon beams above, guiding the rhythm with its invisible, powerful arms. If this someone happens to be a baby who recently choked, you will feel grateful for each breath and just the tiniest bit uncertain of the next.

Abi-Wail

A snapshot of the day:

5:15 a.m.
Abby eats, falls asleep.

7:45 a.m.
Abby eats, falls asleep. Mom gets up.

9 a.m.
Abby wakes. Hangs with mom.

10:15 a.m.
Abby eats, falls asleep. Mom rushes to shower.

10:52 a.m.
Abby shrieks. Mom runs.

11:30 a.m.
Abby eats, watches Mom blow dry her hair.

12 noon
Abby fusses.

1 p.m.
Abby fusses, Mom takes her on a car ride.

1:30 p.m.
Mom eats dried out chicken strips in a Wendy's parking lot. Abby sleeps.

2:10 p.m.
Abby screams in the A&P parking lot. Mom returns to car, changes and feeds her.

2:45 p.m.
Abby screams in the A&P grocery store. Spits out pacifer. Screams more. Mom takes her out of her car seat and pulls the cart through the last aisle.

2:55 p.m.
Abby spits up on mom's shoulder.

3:10 p.m.
Abby screams in the check out line. Strangers make comments about her "powerful lungs."

3:20 p.m.
Mom and Abby walk out of the grocery store and Abby immediately stops crying and falls asleep.

3:30 p.m.
Mom runs to Whole Foods for her granola and produce. Abby sleeps.

3:45 p.m.
Abby wakes. Abby screams in the Whole Foods.

4 p.m.
Abby screams while Mom puts away perishable groceries and leaves the rest on the floor.

4:05 p.m.
Abby eats, falls asleep.

4:45 p.m.
Abby screams as soon as Mom lays her in her crib.

5 p.m.
Mom puts Abby in Baby Bjorn. Abby falls asleep. Mom pours a glass of wine and harasses Mark about coming home.

On Baby Time

I used to pack my weekends full of errands. Sometimes I even made lists - detailed lists that included banal tasks such as 'hang up clothes' or 'sort mail.' And when I was really feeling anal, I wrote estimated times next to each chore and raced to beat the clock. It was a game; each crossed off item a goal, a home run, a slam dunk (and who says I don't like sports?). I'd fall into bed on Sunday night weary but satisfied.

Oh, how life has changed.

[BLOG ON HOLD - CRYING BABY]

Twice Peed On, Twice Shy

It seems Abby had a hard time keeping her pee inside her diaper yesterday. Twice I was doused with the urine of my child. First, when we were hanging out on the couch after a feeding, content and smiling, warmth spread across my lap which at first made me doubt my own continence. After all, she was the one wearing a diaper. A quick check in with my bladder proved me wrong and I stared at the only other culprit in the room. She formed a half grin with her gummy mouth and cocked her head to one side. Guilty as charged.

That evening, again on the couch after feeding that same sensation crept across my belly. I'm being peed on - again! Please take her! I shouted to Mark. These are the sort of incidents that should only happen once in a day, so I think I was entitled to a bit of a freak out. A loose diaper tab was to blame this time around. What is wrong with these diapers, anyway?

Two baths for Abby and 2 showers for mom later, and we're all dry now. After a half-assed night's sleep, I am just grateful it wasn't coming from the other end.

Playing Dress Up

To my mother's dismay, I never liked dolls. My fondest encounter with a doll came when I was 8 or 9 and gave Malibu Barbie a mohawk dyed red with food coloring. And from the time I was old enough to pick my own clothes, I insisted upon long sleeves and pants. My only concession to being a girl was a collection of purses slung around my neck.

Yet, nearly 30 years later, I'm dressing my daughter with such enthusiasm that I (almost) look forward to a super messy poop because it means a new outfit. I study the weather report to determine long-sleeves or short, dress or pants, hat or no hat. Every store is ripe for picking, and I rarely leave one without something new for her to wear. I have a real life doll, and I have to say, she's bringing out the girl in me, too.

I promise to leave the food coloring at the grocery store. ;-)

Dad's Back at Work

Mark returned to the grind today after 2 weeks of baby nesting. It's hard to remember what our life was like before Abby showed up, but I think it had a lot to do with trains, schedules, deadlines and stress. He's going back there and I don't envy him. I wonder what that life will look like through Abby-colored glasses.

Abby and I slept a bit more (she ate) after dad kissed us good-bye. It's 10 a.m. and we're just getting started on our day - clean diaper for Abby, cup of coffee for mom. My dad's started to putter and my mom's still asleep (determined not to change her clock to east coast time, I think). The day will pass like many of the others we've spent since Abby's arrival...hours escaping between feedings and diaper changings. But one thing is different: we miss our daddy. :-)

Good Morning, Baby

This morning I woke up to little fists (or feet, I still can't tell the difference) pounding on my belly. Wake-up-wake-up-wake-up, she called. I rolled over, hoping to silence this internal alarm. Not to be outdone, she delivered a wallop to my left side and we began a two-step of shift, kick, shift, kick. Then my bladder joined the dance, humming its familiar tune. My stomach picked up the beat, gnawing its way to center stage. My squashed and irritable gallbladder sang a single off-key note. And soon the orchestra was in full concert inside my belly and it seemed a shame to sleep through the show.