What we've been up to...
Hi friends!
Well, Oliver and I have just gotten over a stomach virus that's been blasting Bay Ridge. I was on the BRAT diet (bananas, rice, applesauce, toast/tea) for a few days which meant O was too. Last weekend was full of semi-frantic calls to Mom for further clarification on things like how to diagnose baby diarrhea and when to call the pediatrician. It was pretty scary - it was his first sickness and I hated knowing that what I was eating was even more applicable/dangerous to his digestive tract. And there was nothing more I could do except push my breast on him at every opportunity to make sure he got enough fluids.
I've given myself to September 1st to stop cracking my knuckles. I've cracked my knuckles since 4th grade when the cool girls at the time - Brianne Waldo and Collette something-or-other - cracked their knuckles. I loved the relieving pops and loud snaps and the appreciative glances from the class weirdos. Why change now? Well, recently, I was holding O and cracking away, and I remembered a dream that I had in high school. My husband and I were putting our three children to bed in our glass A-frame house. (I had an obsession with A-frame houses at the time). The beds were bolted by the long end to the glass window and up high without ladders, which meant that we had to get the kids in and out of bed every day. One by one we snuggled them up and then I got to the little one. I lifted her up and, due to the lack of grasp that knuckle cracking had caused, I dropped her and she died. I woke up sobbing. It was awful. I remembered that dream with my newborn in my arms and gave myself a deadline to stop cracking! It's going pretty well.
Oliver has been introduced to his new best friend, Super Bear. They do everything together. He smiles when he sees him, which just breaks our hearts it's so adorbs.
But it did make me realize that Ollie CAN be out at night and I CAN take him on the subway by myself. And he's not going to melt away if I feed him in the middle of Union Square park. (AKA "Meth Park" in Doug's opinion). I'm a really anxious mother and I haven't taken him outside that much - once a day, but not very far. I couldn't take him on the subway or bus for the first 2 months and without a car this severely limited Oliver's and my options. The trip to the city was eye-opening and I'm so glad we did it.
So glad in fact that on Monday night when I was planning on going to dinner with the Alacrity Players girls (Kate, Emma and T), I brought Oliver! It was an early start and I gave myself a deadline to get home. I also made sure to pack O some warm clothes! It was amazing (thank you to Rosa Mexicano for being so accommodating) and also my first time being solo with O for a dinner with friends. At the end of the night, O had a major blowout and I put him in his pajamas - he was so incredibly cute that you know the other patrons' wombs were on the verge of breaking, if of course they weren't jaded uterus-less Manhattanites.
Ollie in his first going-out outfit: a shirt (not a onesie), pants and SHOES! We got serious and he knew he looked good.
His pjs. Amazing.
Today Ollie and I visited my work to show him off. He was so good! He was calm and quiet, and even had a little conversation with my boss, Rick! He was passed around and everyone loved him. Megan felt comfortable enough to hold him (and she did great!), as did Lana and Ju. And Rick got to hang onto him for a while too.
We've been having major trouble trying to get this little guy to take a bottle. It's been causing me a little stress - okay, a lot of stress - because he has to take bottles at day care...in 3 weeks! Is it the bottle? Frozen milk vs. fresh milk? The fact that I'm in the apartment? The time of the day?
Nope...it's that we didn't have a certain comedian in the background. Our son took his first bottle in about 2 months while being distracted by The Best of Saturday Night Live with Will Ferrell. Doug thinks it's fate.
Well, Oliver and I have just gotten over a stomach virus that's been blasting Bay Ridge. I was on the BRAT diet (bananas, rice, applesauce, toast/tea) for a few days which meant O was too. Last weekend was full of semi-frantic calls to Mom for further clarification on things like how to diagnose baby diarrhea and when to call the pediatrician. It was pretty scary - it was his first sickness and I hated knowing that what I was eating was even more applicable/dangerous to his digestive tract. And there was nothing more I could do except push my breast on him at every opportunity to make sure he got enough fluids.
But now we're both better!
I've also gone back to the gym! Yep! The gym! I've gone five times in the past 2 weeks! It's a new gym, it even has a - wait for it - ssssssauna. Which I wouldn't use in the million years because I think super-heat is the second worst possible way to die. Right behind being eaten by sharks. However, the fact that my gym has a sauna means that it's pretty high-class. High-class can also read incomprehensive equipment, FYI. Not in this case, of course, because I'm a work-out genius. Especially after nearly a year of not exercising. Hear that? Muscle GOLD.
I've given myself to September 1st to stop cracking my knuckles. I've cracked my knuckles since 4th grade when the cool girls at the time - Brianne Waldo and Collette something-or-other - cracked their knuckles. I loved the relieving pops and loud snaps and the appreciative glances from the class weirdos. Why change now? Well, recently, I was holding O and cracking away, and I remembered a dream that I had in high school. My husband and I were putting our three children to bed in our glass A-frame house. (I had an obsession with A-frame houses at the time). The beds were bolted by the long end to the glass window and up high without ladders, which meant that we had to get the kids in and out of bed every day. One by one we snuggled them up and then I got to the little one. I lifted her up and, due to the lack of grasp that knuckle cracking had caused, I dropped her and she died. I woke up sobbing. It was awful. I remembered that dream with my newborn in my arms and gave myself a deadline to stop cracking! It's going pretty well.
Oliver has been introduced to his new best friend, Super Bear. They do everything together. He smiles when he sees him, which just breaks our hearts it's so adorbs.
Friday night, Oliver and I went into Manhattan to watch Doug play soccer. It was Ollie's first trip to the city! The 1 hour long train ride was a little tedious, but when Oliver started fussing, I sang to him and gave him his super bear. Fellow straphangers may have thought me odd, but who cares! After the game, Doug and I decided to walk on the High Line from 23rd to 16th and unfortunately, I got carried away with being in Manhattan for the first time in months and we stayed out a little longer than we needed. We were that couple walking around with a baby too late at night whom we used to judge! And on top of that, it hadn't occurred to me that Ollie would be cold - he was in a onesie and had a blanket and it was another heat-advisory day - so I hadn't packed a sweatshirt or even pants. Worst mom in the world. AND I had to change him on the cold Starbucks bathroom floor. Even though he slept well in his car seat, he wasn't set down in his Pack N' Play until 1am. Awful. Horrible.
But it did make me realize that Ollie CAN be out at night and I CAN take him on the subway by myself. And he's not going to melt away if I feed him in the middle of Union Square park. (AKA "Meth Park" in Doug's opinion). I'm a really anxious mother and I haven't taken him outside that much - once a day, but not very far. I couldn't take him on the subway or bus for the first 2 months and without a car this severely limited Oliver's and my options. The trip to the city was eye-opening and I'm so glad we did it.
So glad in fact that on Monday night when I was planning on going to dinner with the Alacrity Players girls (Kate, Emma and T), I brought Oliver! It was an early start and I gave myself a deadline to get home. I also made sure to pack O some warm clothes! It was amazing (thank you to Rosa Mexicano for being so accommodating) and also my first time being solo with O for a dinner with friends. At the end of the night, O had a major blowout and I put him in his pajamas - he was so incredibly cute that you know the other patrons' wombs were on the verge of breaking, if of course they weren't jaded uterus-less Manhattanites.
Ollie in his first going-out outfit: a shirt (not a onesie), pants and SHOES! We got serious and he knew he looked good.
His pjs. Amazing.
Yesterday, Kate Paarlberg came over to pay him a visit. I'm pretty sure she and Oliver fell equally in love with each other.
And look who fits in his bumbo chair? 11 weeks. Genius! So tough!
Today Ollie and I visited my work to show him off. He was so good! He was calm and quiet, and even had a little conversation with my boss, Rick! He was passed around and everyone loved him. Megan felt comfortable enough to hold him (and she did great!), as did Lana and Ju. And Rick got to hang onto him for a while too.
We've been having major trouble trying to get this little guy to take a bottle. It's been causing me a little stress - okay, a lot of stress - because he has to take bottles at day care...in 3 weeks! Is it the bottle? Frozen milk vs. fresh milk? The fact that I'm in the apartment? The time of the day?
Nope...it's that we didn't have a certain comedian in the background. Our son took his first bottle in about 2 months while being distracted by The Best of Saturday Night Live with Will Ferrell. Doug thinks it's fate.
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