Baby G’s Intinerary

Pre-Dinner

• Make Baby G’s supper
• Prepare bottle for bedtime
• Wipe down bath
• Two face cloths (one for wiping bath, one for Baby G to sit on)
• Place Baby G’s towel and face cloth in the bathroom
• Lay out pajamas on our bed
• Fill humidifier

Supper

• Sippy cup of water
• Meal
• Fruit for dessert
• Warm milk and bring it upstairs with you

Bathtime

• Play with toys
• Wash hair
• Wash stinky baby
• Play with toys
• Out when Baby G says so!
• Warm milk again

Pre-Bed Routine

• Baby G waves at himself in mirror wrapped in towel (Editor’s note: I really did have this down to an effing science)
• Place on change table, make a big deal about looking for Sal (Editor’s note: Sal is Baby G’s stuffed animal)…”Who’s that?! What’s in there??!! Who could it be??!!”
• Bring out Sal, “It’s SAL!” (Hug Sal when you say this)
• Start the Sal song, (Editors note: I did include the lyrics for the “Sal song” but in order to protect what is left of my credibility I will delete for the purpose of this blog).
• Baby G hugs Sal while you sing the song
• Face cream first
• Excema cream
• Lotion on legs (not on feet, Vicks Vapour Rub goes on feet) and arms
• Vicks on chest, feet and back (Editors note: He had a cold! Give me a break)
• Hair brushed
• Dim lights, turn on humidifier, turn on monitors (FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO NOT PUT HIM IN HIS CRIB FOR THIS, CARRY HIM TO DO IT)
• Into bedroom to put on pajamas and read a story
• Back in Baby G’s room, sit in the rocking chair and give milk. Constant slow rocking while Baby G has his milk. Not too fast, not too slow. No talking. Start to look sleepy yourself. He should be laying in your arms like a baby, rub his legs and belly a bit with the hand that is not holding the bottle. He should start to get drowsy.
• After milk, softly bounce and pace around the room (slowly) while Baby G lays against your chest. 
• Place in crib once he is relaxed (sometimes he actually points to crib and wants to go in).
• He will roll towards Sal, and cuddle him, put his blanket over him after this happens.

Make sure to open his door and your door before you go to sleep.

If Baby G wakes up

• Grab the bottle you prepared for the morning and warm it. You can replace it afterwards. Don’t go in until you have the warm bottle. He’ll just get worked up that it is not mommy.
• Same routine as before bed. Rock slowly, rub his leg, turn on music (you often have to turn the volume down a bit, for some reason it starts out loud)
• Pace a bit and lay down with Sal. He will probably cry a bit, but if he is not teething, he should be fine to go back to sleep. 

At the time, I did not realize how insulting this organizational chart must have been for The Husband. In retrospect, I was a massive asshole. I love that he saved it. Toddler G will be so impressed with our communication skills when he is a teenager.

Baby G is now Toddler G. I look fondly on my trials and tribulations with the Soothie and the Transition to Crib. Now we are dealing with a pint size locomotive who is constantly attracted to traffic and expresses this affection by attempting to run into the street on an ongoing basis.

His vocabularly is amazing. Truly. It took him 15 months to walk, but by age 17 months he could name every colour under the rainbow and currently enjoys using terms like, “Jesus Christ” and “Oh my God” in addition to humanity’s all-time favourite swear words. Note to parents of newborns: no matter how much you try, they will hear you uttering a foul word at your weakest moment. It could be 12am, they could be fast asleep in their crib, you could be telling off your husband in hushed tones and possibly dropping the f-bomb. Guaranteed, they will hear that and use it the next day. Moritifying.

He truly is a parrot. Which gives us great comfort in sending him off to daycare. I can image the teachers delight when he drops a book in class and expresses his displeasure with a “oh, shit”.

I’m painting a bad picture here. Our son can also count to ten, remembers the names of the majority of his 100 odd books and can pretty much carry on a conversation. We’re super proud. Therefore, will ignore the occasional swear word he adds in as an adjective. Although if he is going to say, “Oh my God” it would be nice if her could get a sense of the context. Currently he is using it in sentences like, “Mommy read Curious George, please. Oh my God!” and “Mommy let’s go look at the blue water. Oh my God!”

So, more posts to come as we continue to navigate this thing called parenting. Basically, we still feel like the luckiest people on earth. Oh my God!

I found the lead-up to the first birthday really emotional. It just seemed like the year got away from me, even though there were days that felt they would never end (particularly in the early months and the long winter days when it was too cold to go outside).

So since BabyG has turned one, I find myself struggling to let go of some of his “baby ways”. Like the bottle. I’ll admit it. He’s still taking milk from a bottle before bed (calm down, we brush his teeth before he goes to sleep), I just am really hesitant to give this up. It’s not that he’s not comfortable with a sippy cup. He loves his sippy for his water and milk during the day, but we both are attached to those moments before bed, when he’s fresh from his bath, placed in his cozy pajamas and story time has just commenced. We cuddle in his rocking chair and I chat with him about the day, he plays with my eyelashes and then plays with his own. Mostly, we just smile at eachother until he starts getting really sleepy.

Maybe you got to know BabyG, but having him cuddle, or stay still for any length of time (like, two seconds) is impossible. He’s never been one for snuggling, except when he’s sick. And he’s never wanted to sleep in our bed, except when he’s sick. You get the picture. He’s always wanted Mama at bedtime though, he looks forward to this time as much as I do I think. Where he can have a warm bottle of milk and kick back and get some cuddles.

So, yah, I know, I know. I’ve got to give it up. I can just see the judgey moms tsk tsking me through the screen. Oddly enough, I don’t really care about the judgement. I’ve become a big believer in doing what feels right for you and your baby. A mom sort of knows when it’s the right time to transition to something else, and I feel like I want to give us both a bit more time with the bottle before bed routine (again, chill, WE ARE BRUSHING HIS TEETH…ok, I care about the judging a bit). Besides, it won’t be long before he tires of this routine and wants to be more independent. I won’t let him be all Suri Cruise, carrying a bottle around at age 4. Swears it.

I also swears that I will try to update a bit more. I like writing here, mostly because I want a place to track my thoughts for the boy to read when he gets older. So he’ll know that even when I’m super pissed at him, I’ve always loved him with everything. Plus, he can blackmail me when he realizes all the mistakes I’ve made that I’ve recorded here on the site.

All of a sudden, I find myself finishing my mat leave, a month early as baby is only (almost) 11 months, but a daycare space opened up in August at a centre we really liked and we jumped on it. The good news is, I made a great career decision, I’m now going to be working on my own as an independent communications consultant, to allow me more flexibility to balance my family and work life. I was never great at balancing the personal/work life pre-baby, so something had to give.

Next week is baby’s first full week at daycare, this week he has had two visits, each two hours. The pain that is associated with the decision to place him in daycare is sort of indescribable. I’m a dramatic person to begin with, so this transition has left me an absolute mess. I have to give myself props though, I did what I was told and completed the “quick drop off” leaving him in the arms of a complete stranger while he wailed, tears streaming down his face, crying out for “mom-ma” (how he pronounces it). I look back to high school and university, when I thought some dude had completely broken my heart, these arseholes had nothing on daycare. Daycare shatters your heart into pieces.

I didn’t know what I would be like as a mother, how I would take to it. I’m pretty self-centred, and I like having my own space. Over the past year, I have learned so much about myself. Sure, I now know I am much stronger than I thought, but my weaknesses have come rushing forward for examination as well. This year has not only been the year that I fell in love with my son, it has also been the year I sort of learned how much I hated myself. The year I really worked on who I was in order to be a better role model for him. I have a ways to go, but our time together 24/7 the last 11 months has given me such perspective, and shamed me for decisions I have made in the past.

Now, with two full days left together before we end our year together, I find myself feeling really depressed. I know that I’ll get to pick him up each day, spend every weekend with him, and plan wonderful family vacations, but it won’t be the same. It’s like graduation or something, without the party.

The selfish me will miss my buddy. The little friend who makes me laugh at the little things he does. I’ll miss the moments we have before he goes down for his nap, where I whisper our plans for the afternoon in his ear, and plead with him to rest for a bit so we can have tons of fun when he wakes up. I’ll miss our morning routine…dropping daddy off at work and singing songs on the radio on the way home. Having a cup of coffee while watching him explore the living room before preparing his cereal and yogurt. I’ll miss our outings that I would plan each day around his naps, something new for baby to see and experience. Sure, even if it was Winners where mommy tried on bathing suit after bathing suit.

When I dropped him off for his daycare visit this morning I came back to an empty house. Being dramatic me, I went up to baby’s room and sat in the rocking chair and cried. I looked in his crib and saw his blankie, the one I slept with for two nights before giving it to him so it would smell like mommy when I was trying to get him used to his crib. I saw Sal, his stuffed dog, that he loves to cuddle with in the morning. I leaned over and turned on his iPod station, where I had placed all of his favourite songs, the ones we listened to when he had colic and I had to dance around the room for hours with him. I missed him. Mostly, I felt the decision I had made. I felt it hard. The decision to put him in care and not stay home with him full-time.

Like any mother, I can’t be sure I am making the right choice, although it feels right to me. I promised to always be honest on this blog, so I’ll say that there have been moments over the last couple of months where I have been yearning for my old life. To be able to have time for me again, to do actual work, to feel proud of something I have accomplished outside of motherhood. When I’m being rational, I know I am making the best decision for our family, if my husband got one more call at work with me complaining about how suffocated I felt I think he would have driven off the 102. And let’s be serious, mat leave pay isn’t condusive to my shopping lifestyle.

I’m a big believer in quality time, and that’s what my focus will be with baby. No matter how tired I am at the end of a work day, he’ll be my priority. I’m his mama, and I always want to be the one he turns to for guidance. I’m going to miss our full days together, the routine we’ve established. I know he will too. I hope he makes friends at daycare, that he learns to love having his own time, his independence, his own place that he can soon tell mom and dad all about. I hope this helps to prepare him better for school, and allows him to be more comfortable when left alone with others (maybe The Husband and I can finally go on a date!). Mostly, I hope he doesn’t forget how much he means to his mama. I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m abandoning him. I hope that he knows how excited I will be to pick him up every day, and knows that mom doesn’t like walking away from him each morning.

I’m so glad we had this time together. Each and every day, even the bad ones. We’re truly lucky in Canada to be allowed to spend this time with our babies, to help them develop, to get them adjusted. I haven’t taken that time for granted. It’s a new chapter now, baby. I love you more than anything times a million.

For now, your dramatic mama will listen to some of this:

Where did the time go? Seriously? It’s so cliche, but I do feel as though it was just yesterday we were staring down at an eight pound little munchkin wondering what we were supposed to do with it. It’s not that we know so much now, but we know him so much more. I know what he likes, what he dislikes, how can I hand him over to someone else?

While I know the transition to daycare is tough on everyone, and I expected to feel a bit of pain, I didn’t realize how heavy my heart would be as the day nears. Thing is, Baby is my buddy. We’ve spent almost every moment together the last nine months, we are a sort of team now. How’s it gonna be when he’s not with me, or me with him?

Which got me thinking of this song. Expect many more misty eyed posts as the days to daycare draw near. Until then, we’ll be making the most of the lazy, hazy days of mat leave.

So, today was my first official mother’s day. I didn’t put too much thought into it, besides telling my husband that I would love to do something different with him and Baby. He made me a funny card, and bought my favourite chocolates, which was super sweet but wasn’t even close to the best part of the day.

Maybe it was how I kept reminding myself all day long how lucky I was. How all of the difficulties I faced in previous years were worth it in order to be here in this moment today. It chokes me up to think about it. The day was just so perfect. Every moment. Even the fact that Baby didn’t say “mama” once, instead saying “dadadadadada” all day long.

We took Baby swimming for the first time. Of course we were the bumbling new parents in the Family Change Room (which is a strange experience btw) getting Baby ready while trying to get ready ourselves. We weren’t sure whether it was going to be a massive disaster or a super good time. Baby blew our expectations out of the water (pun!). The look on his face was priceless. He laughed the entire time, everything was so brand new for him. I realized as I looked at him in his swim trunks and shirt, that we get to introduce him to all of these firsts. Simple, but sort of extraordinary. It’s an amazing gift.

As we drove home, Baby babbled on and on, squealing with excitement over what he had just experienced. He was still full of energy when we got home, fed him his dinner and gave him his bath. The events of the day finally caught up to him and he fell asleep in my arms before getting into his crib. I decided to give The Book (which says very clearly to put the baby to bed drowsy, but NOT ASLEEP!!) the middle finger and sat down to rock with my sleeping baby nuzzled close to me. We rocked for a good while tonight while I wordlessly thanked God, my parents, my husband, the guy at the corner store, Britney Spears, the dandelions on my lawn…everyone and everything for bringing him into my life.

I hope I always remember to be this grateful, to remember how lucky I am each day. Even when things seem rotten. I know it is a privilege to be on this ride with my boy, and I never for a moment want to take it for granted.

To all the moms out there, I hope you had a fantastic day. Especially my mom, who this year especially gave me unwaivering love and support when I needed to find my own way as a mother.

I’m going to go listen to some sappy music now and have a good happy cry. Then I am going to eat the dinner my husband is happily preparing downstairs. Life is good tonight, my friends.

xoxo

P.S. This is good sappy music, FYI.

I think the reason I might be more intimidated putting my motherhood out there for everyone to see is because I have become a tad judgey myself. I’ve recently caught myself saying things like, “That baby should be in bed” (when witnessing a couple enjoying a lovely evening at a local restaurant while their baby slept in the car seat beside them.” or “Good luck trying to break that habit when they’re older” (regarding anyone who doesn’t share the same obsession with sleep habits as I do).

I hate when I do this, I feel dirty. I think it happens to everyone though, reason being that none of us have any real clue of what we’re doing and so we repeatedly tell ourselves that our choice is the best choice and therefore anyone who does it differently clearly doesn’t love their child as much as I love mine. I’m exaggerating, but you catch my drift.

I re-read my initial post, where I vowed to be honest and real about my experiences, mistakes and all. I think I need to stay true to that.

So, how’s BabyG doing? He’s fantastic. I found month six brought the most changes, both in personality and girth. It feels as though we have spent the last month getting to know each other for realsies. Before I was just the lady with the things that fed him. I was also the object that would tote him around to scary places like the library where other small objects would scream their faces off during sing-songs and rhymes. I swear he looks at me these days like, “hmm…you’re growing on me, lady.” He’s sort of deciding whether he’s going to keep me around or not, like The Bachelor. It doesn’t matter that he’s stuck with me, he doesn’t know that, and apparently neither do I as I audition for him every single day:

LOOK AT ME WITH THE FACECLOTH ON MY HEAD AREN’T I FUNNY?

WATCH ME DO THE SINGLE LADIES DANCE? PLEASE STAY IN OUR HOUSE!

It’s neat watching to see what he likes and what he dislikes. For example, he has many, many bath toys but the only one he cares about is the plastic purse that holds said toys. Every night during bath time he searches frantically for the purse, when he spots it a huge grin spreads across his face and he flails that mothereffer all over his bath sending a tidal wave of water all over me and the floor.

He also loves applesauce. Anything with applesauce. We did what The Book told us to do and introduced one vegetable at a time. He would do us the honour of allowing the food to enter his mouth, but that would be it. He would pause, stare at us in utter horror, shake his head back and forth like he had just had a large shot of tequila and spit it out (not before giving us a look of complete disgust). This was until we discovered applesauce. Sure, we knew about applesauce before, but we had no idea the power it held. A little dollop of applesauce goes a long way, my friends. Now, here is where I would typically fear the judgey moms. The JMs are right now gasping at the massive error I have made. HOW WILL HE EVER ACCEPT A VEGETABLE WITHOUT APPLESAUCE? HE WILL BE ON A DATE AT AGE 18 ASKING FOR APPLESAUCE FOR HIS STEAK.  To this I say, “whatever, bitches. Is your seven-month-old eating chicken?”

While BabyG has tons of laughs for us at home, he is tres serious in public. Speaking of judging, our baby is indeed judging you. I feel like when he starts to talk, he will remember all of these outings. His first sentence will be, “Hey, mama? You know your friend x? They really shouldn’t wear that loud floral pattern. It offends my fashionable sensibilities” and I’ll be all, “I KNOW, BabyG. Grab your purse let’s get us a cocktail!”. BabyG will grab his plastic purse with the blue cloth straps and off we’ll trot to the local drinking establishment. Don’t worry judgey moms, we’ll get him a virgin. Drink that is.

Anyway, we used to do this for hours when he had “The Colic”, beating a path into my living room, kitchen and dining room until he fell fast asleep. For some reason, the sling also seems to help soothe the pain of teething, I have no idea why. I put on his cd (a mix that he has heard since the day he was born) and lost my shit when this song came on.

When I’m not sure of my priorities
When I’ve lost sight of where I’m meant to be
Like holy water washing over me
You make it real for me

It just hit home. I am so, so much greater for having my baby boy in my life. I’m super sentimental tonight, but I’m just counting my blessings and realizing how truly lucky I am.

I can handle this. Again, my family does not shut up. What I am starting to not be able to handle is the high pitch screech he has discovered. When he first started this screech, it was hilarious. We videotaped it, called our parents so they could listen, heck we even tried to make him do the screech so we could laugh our pants off. Now, not so funny. The screech is like this:

It’s like he’s been caught on TMZ running after Justin Bieber at LAX.

I think we may be in luck. He started rolling his R’s last week and today I swear I heard a grunt. Please start grunting BabyG. Please.

He had had a little cough for a couple of days prior, but when he woke up this particular evening, he was completely stuffed up and had a barking cough. I can’t really articulate how terrifying this was simply because I had this horrifying moment of realization that I had no effing clue what to do. My maternal alarm was ringing out of control and I felt helpless to help my snotty, coughing baby. The most heartbreaking thing to watch was when BabyG would cough. His eyes would go wide in surprise at how much the cough would hurt and then he would let loose with this painful screeching cry. What to do, what to do at 11pm on a Saturday evening? I did what I do best: Shop.

I jumped in the car and raced down to the local Shoppers Drug Mart. I purchased the following:

• Humidifier
• Vicks BabyRub (Do you know you should put this on their feet? True!)
• Baby Tylenol
• Saline drops
• Pampers Clean and Go wipes ( I had it in my head that I would need to wipe his hands non-stop to reduce the spread of germs. I know. He already was sick. Shut up.)
• Nasal aspirator

I got back home and gave a confused BabyG the full crazed mom treatment. He particularly enjoyed me tilting his head back to drop in the saline drops. That was sarcasm.

We made it through the first night, and I was patting myself on the back for being such an incredible testiment to motherhood when a friend questioned whether I was positive that this was indeed a cold and not teething.

…

…

Um, the fuck? What do you mean this could be teething? I decided to ask BabyG who was busy bopping away in his jolly jumper.

Me: “Dude, are you teething?”

BabyG: Magammmaaagaaaaaaammaaaaaa ScreeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!(while drool pours down his face as he trys desperately to stuff the top of the jolly jumper into his mouth, the same mouth that is already holding his fist)

Shit.

Seriously, folks? I’m at a loss. I’ve come to the conclusion that BabyG may be dealing with both a cold and bone jutting through his gums.

I’m so thankful for my friends who are moms. I’ve received many great tips which included hotboxing BabyG in the bathroom for the steam effect. We did this at 6am while the husband was in the shower getting ready for work. BabyG thought it was hilarious when I kept yelling, “Make it hotter! Make it hotter!”. The husband didn’t find it as funny when he came out with bright pink skin.

Thankfully, we had the baby’s 5th month appt booked for this Friday, so I’ll be able to pummel her with questions at that time. In the interim, please feel free to give me any guidance. It should be obvious from this post that I need it.