Obligatory Pre-Blogher Freak-Out Post

How is it July? Like, the end-ish of July? What happened to June? And May? And that little squishy baby I had? Did this giant one here eat him, just like he ate the dog kibble last night? Repeatedly? Because my babyproofing knowledge is limited to saying "NO!" and then moving him across the room? Which is surprisingly ineffective? Anyway, I'm bringing this baby to Blogher. No need to vacuum, Sheraton, he'll take care of it. Yes, you can hold him. My arms and neck and back would very much like you to hold him. I will NOT, however, be bringing that drum. Fuck that drum. Vamanos, bebe! Cállate, tambor! Or that refrigerator, even though...oh, I love our new refrigerator. I do not love that we had to buy it, but now that it is here and I open the door and I can like, find stuff I need RIGHT THERE, RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY EYEBALLS, I am very happy about the new refrigerator. I'm sure I'll eventually be less happy with it, once it gets more full of food and crowded, but right now it's gloriously organized and spacious, mostly because I enjoy opening it and eating everything.... Read more →


So I didn't update yesterday because I couldn't think of anything to write about. Some half-formed possibilities included: Wow, Gee Whiz, But Lots Of People Have Similar Problems With Their GPS Unit, Howza About That Pooping On The Potty as a Diabolical Stalling Tactic Didya Ever Go Too Long Without Logging Into Facebook and Then You Log In and It's All Like, Whoa, And Stuff? This Coffee Tastes Like Shit I came very close to settling on possibility number five, which was: Here, Have Some Baby Pictures. But for some reason Jason took our camera to work on Monday and I have not seen it since, and honestly Ezra has been so PARTICULARLY CANTANKEROUS since getting his vaccinations on Tuesday that I don't feel too badly for letting this week go by un-photographed. He pretty much looks like this: >:-( Only, you know, louder and more 95th percentilish. Then I was going to write something about my boobs, because they have been up to no damn good lately, as in my once abundant reserves of milk appear to be d-r-y-i-n-g u-p no matter what I do, no matter how much I nurse or funky tea I drink or Fenugreek I... Read more →

Don't Bite My Butt & Other Dubiously Connected Topics

I keep getting the theme song from Jaws stuck in my head, usually right when Ezra starts rooting around and opens his mouth and oh my God, he's heading straight for the boob DAA NA DAA NA DAANADAANADAANA. He's like a shark, these days. A toothless geriatric shark, intent on furiously gumming you to death, shaking his head back and forth and all around while he uses his shark flippers to grab flipperfuls of flesh to twist and dig into with his little shark fingernails because he's inordinately cranky and okay, it's not a perfect metaphor, but still. OW. Noah's first tooth sprouted about two weeks after we gave up on nursing, so I have to admit that I am sore afraid here. (Chapped afraid! Raw afraid! Chafed afraid!) This is already HELLS ROUGH here, as the kid shrieks and squawks and chomps and protests and rejects every teething ring in the world because, apparently, they are not made of human flesh. He already recognizes the bottle of Hyland's Teething Tablets and gets overly excited at the sight of it -- OH PRAISE JEBUS FOR WHITE POWDERED RELIEF -- and aaaaaaeeeeeeeiiiiii the drooling and the fussing and the gnawing on... Read more →

Delicious Whole-Grain Baby

So after all of that, this happened. In part, I caved because Ez suddenly seemed ravenously, inexplicably hungry all the time and seriously tried to throw himself headfirst into Noah's plate of macaroni and cheese. It was also because there wasn't anything good on TV that night. After the initial WHAT THE EFF? reaction, I must report that Ezra seriously loves oatmeal. Loves it. Two bites in and he had the whole spoon thing down and two nights in he knew when it was cereal time and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WOMAN, WHERE IS MY CEREAL? He's also skipped his 2 am feeding three nights in a row, although this morning we had our first real solid-food-poop diaper and oh. Man. I'd TOTALLY blocked that part out. (He still loves the boobs, of course. This morning I had a dream where I kept trying to readjust my bra over and over again because it was stuck to me, like a suction cup, and I couldn't figure out what was going on until I woke up and realized that Ezra had somehow scooted up to me and latched on. He was also sound asleep. Take that, spoon! I am still... Read more →

A Post About Boobs. But You Know, the Lame Mommyblog Functional Sort of Boobs.

Ezra had his four-month check-up yesterday (hmm, feels like way too many hyphens in that sentence, but no matter), and unlike last time I cannot directly compare his stats to his big brother's, because I never blogged about them. So I don't know them. So I was either completely over documenting Noah's babyhood by four months or at least briefly pretending to for the Sake Of My Poor Mommyblogged-Out Audience. Or....(scans blog archives once more)...ah. Yes. Month four was the month of the rotavirus. Over and over again. So I was simply too busy vomiting. I remember now. (I also remember why it became imperative that we move to a place with more than one bathroom, as I never, ever wish to repeat the math of Two Sick Adults, One Toilet again.) Anyway. I believe Noah was somewhere in the 15-pound range, and really long, like 95th percentile long. His doctor was all, "Have you started him on solids yet?" And I was all, "Yesssss," because the Internet had yelled at me for starting him on solids. And the doctor was all, "Good!" and proceeded to rage against commercial rice cereal for the next like, 20 minutes. Ezra weighs 15... Read more →

The Baby Who

I dressed Ezra in a certain blue stripey fleece sleeper today, and had to step back from the changing table for a second, like, "whoa, which baby are you again?" OH RIGHT, THE FAT ONE. And of course, I mean that in the nicest, most delicious way possible. You're also the baby who won't smile directly into the camera, which means a lot of ridiculous behavior on my part and blindly-snapped, blurry photos. Every once in awhile, I catch you. Sort of. You're the baby for whom that whole thing about a "regular, consistent bedtime routine" nonsense actually WORKS, and after months of us basically keeping you up until we went to bed, in hopes of delaying your buttcrack-of-dawn waking, we've finally figured you out, a little bit. A bath and a book with your big brother at 8:30 (plus a little boob while we read Dr. Seuss), a tight swaddle and in your crib by 9, and lo. You stay there, and you sleep. Until the buttcrack of dawn. When you wake up anyway. Eh. But then there's more boob and more sleep, off and on, until dawn has officially yanked her trampy low-rise pants up over her buttcrack... Read more →

Let's Go To The Zoo, Part Three

Oh, but God help us, we went to the zoo. Thefuckingzoo, yes. We've been basking in downright lovely weather for a few days, and so, because I am freaking raging batshit crazy, I suggested that hey! We should take Noah to the zoo! It's free! It's outside! We'll see some animals! Get some exercise! Check in on those goddamn pandas. I'm sure the zoo no longer fucking sucks anymore, I mean: Obama. Right? Everything in DC is magical again. Results were fairly typical. The whole place smells like poop, is STILL under construction, the pandas were sleeping, the monkeys were all sitting morosely in their cages with their sad little ape fingers hanging through the bars while assholes rapped on the glass, and a tiger roared really ferociously, usurping that one scene in 101 Dadamations where Pongo bites the bad guys as our Number One Source of Preschooler Nightmares. I forgot to bring a real camera, but got some pretty good shots with my phone, I think. Noah saw some elephants, which was real exciting. (Not Pictured: the overachieving father who stood there holding up his infant's bucket car seat in the direction of the elephants, if only the poor... Read more →


Ezra is a comfort sucker. (As in, he likes to suck on things for comfort. Not that he is a sucker for comfort, although frankly, who isn't? I'm a sucker for comfort food, for instance. Comfort food with butter and extra deep-fried carbs.) In pretty much every ultrasound we had, his face was always obscured by various body parts that he was attempting to shove into his mouth. I took note of this and tossed a pack of pacifiers into my hospital bag. I popped a Soothie into his mouth the very first night. Screw nipple confusion -- if I didn't give that kid a pacifier I wasn't going to have any damn nipples LEFT. He liked the Soothie well enough -- much better than the free pacifiers the hospital nursery had to offer, which I of course hoarded and took home regardless, because they were FREE FREE FREE -- but once we got home he started rejecting them too. If it wasn't a boob, it better be a finger, inserted at an awkward, palms-up angle that ensured you could do absolutely nothing else except SIT THERE while your wrist cramped up and Ezra sucked your fingerprints off. So, you... Read more →

The Angel in the Details

I've found myself reading through my old archives a lot lately -- I have this compulsion to constantly compare Ezra's infancy to Noah's, both in photos and milestones, using Noah as a yardstick to know that I Haven't Fucked Up Yet -- and so I've also been cringing and laughing at myself a lot. I feel sorry for that poor girl in those entries about breastfeeding, the girl who was trying so hard to succeed at something neither she or her baby were particularly jazzed about, but who did not want to F-A-I-L but needed to W-I-N and it all had to be P-E-R-F-E-C-T. And I smile ruefully at that girl who could not stop writing about how much she loved her baby, like it took her by surprise, like she spent most of her time staring slack-jawed at her infant with a mix of rapture and utter terror while the emotions of early first-time motherhood engulfed her. And then pistol-whipped her for good measure. And then stole her wallet. And then there's me now, who probably isn't that different, because while I can be all head-pattingly condescending to my former self, I'm still neurotic and guilt-ridden as all get-out,... Read more →