4 Months

The boy is 4 months old and continuing to grow like a weed. On a daily basis I am finding onsies and pants that no longer fit and adding them to the storage pile. I am quickly learning that when it comes to children and clothing you just never know what you are going to need, especially since I live in KY and the weather changes hourly. Andrew is growing out of his long sleeve onsies but I don't want to buy more given that summer is coming; however, the last few days have been extremely chilly. This often causes a financial pickle sprinkled with uncertainty but luckily we have access to a Once Upon a Child and it is garage sale season. :)

As the boy gets older he has become more active and is now swallowing his rice cereal and not just swishing and spitting. He even tips his head back like a little bird and reaching for the bowl indicating that he wants more. :) His active nature and eating of "solid" food has really helped him sleep. With in the last week he uped the average eight hour night from 3 nights a week to 3 ten hour nights in a row! This upward trend has brought many more laughs to the Mann household as Brandon and my moods have gotten better with increasing sleep.

Since the boy currently has a bad case of thrush I have finally been puked on, pooped on, and just generally defiled in every way an infant can disgust his parent in the last two weeks. Brandon is loving it, hehehe. Despite my new found appreciation for clean hair, clothing and furniture I am thoroughly enjoying the extra time that I've been given with the boy this week.

Each month we learn new things about being a parent and this past month has been no different:
-The boy learning to "get around" is NOT always a good/fun thing (i.e. past Mann Update where he jumped off the couch).
-Babies are hardy and sturdy for a reason.
-The doctor is not always right and sometimes you have to put up a fight for your child.
-Trust your instincts.
-Cable is not necessary when you have a child to entertain you for free!

Thrush

For the past few weeks we have seen a downward spiral in Andrew's disposition and it wasn't until the daycare called requesting permission to give him Tylenol did I foresee a serious problem in sight. After a day of nonstop screaming and two doctor appointments Andrew was diagnosed with a bad case of thrush.

Thrush: (in simple terms) a yeast/fungal infection in the mouth.

Thrush is considered highly contagious and we were told that should anything go in the boy's mouth it will need to be sanitized. Given that he is almost 4 months old my eyes widened at the thought of keeping anything out of his mouth and cleaning everything that went in it. This also meant that he would not be allowed at daycare until the infection is gone. For once in the past four weeks I gave thanks that I was unemployed, allowing me to stay home with him.

Once home from the doctor Brandon went out to fill the boy's prescriptions while I searched the house for anything that might have been in his mouth over the last two weeks. Laundry was done and bottle nipples, toys, and pacifiers were boiled all while the boy slept.

I pulled out an old and empty wipes box to put contaminated objects in for boiling later, made sure to have the box of q-tips ready for the 4 times daily medicine application, and we have the wipes box out for constant hand cleaning. Since the boy is an avid sucker we have an ample supply of pacifiers; this should cut down the boiling time and frequency immensely.

If anything the boy sure does keep us on our toes, constantly!

One Heart Attack Down, How Many to Go?

It was a morning like any other morning in the Mann household, 700 AM. He laughed he giggled and he rose from the couch like a catapulting ball...scaring his mother. :) For those that caught that reference (Cash Cow- Steve Taylor, for those that didn't), I AM able to make light of my mini heart attack this morning although for the 30 minutes that followed I was vigorously holding back tears and repeatedly having to take deep breaths.

Just like we have an evening routine we also have a morning routine. The goal is to enable Andrew to nurse before going to work and despite my current unemployment I try not to detour from the routine as much as possible.

At 7AM I could hear my son talking to himself and acting as an alarm clock to my senses. I went in, said my good morning, changed his diaper and started to ready him for the day. As we walked from his room to the living room he dropped his pacifier that had been firmly plugged in his mouth due his chipper morning chatter. Per our usual routine I propped him up in the corner of the couch so he could see and turned to retrieve his pacifier or "O'Malley" as we call it. With in a matter of 5 seconds I heard an odd thud and my son screaming. Turning my head to the couch I found that Andrew was not where I had placed him and upon further inspection I found him 2 feet from the couch on the floor on his face. (*Picture is reenactment of where Andrew landed and taken during his morning tummy time- NOT taken during actual event) All thought flew from my head and instinct flooded my actions as I immediately picked him up and began rubbing his back and attempting to soothe him. Guilt rushing at me like a tidal wave.

Once he calmed enough to nurse we continued the morning routine Andrew seeming to have completely forgotten the entire incident. He was unharmed but my nerves were on edge. For the next 30 minutes Brandon and I speculated how he may have accomplished this feat and we came up with two scenarios:

1. He leaned forward and pushed off with his legs, something we've seen him do or attempt before, placing him on the edge of the couch where he then rolled off and onto the floor.

2. He got his legs up under him and pushed off like a catapult throwing himself upward and hitting the edge of the couch and flopping on to the floor OR he cleared the couch and flipped.

Either situation does not sit well with my nerves even as Brandon jokes that he wished we could have gotten it on tape. My son's acrobatic stunt this morning gave both of us pause and a sense of worry as to what kind of child we have and what other heart stopping moments he is going to give us in the years to come. Thinking back over the numerous stories I've heard from my mother-in-law about Brandon, that seem in line with this morning, I have no doubt that I will be completely gray by the time I'm 30!

Don't Play With Your Food

Like most mornings I woke to find my son happy, wiggling, and ready to offer me plenty of smiles. I'm often amazed at how much of a morning person he is given that both his parents are so anti-morning that we would rather sleep till 12 just to bypass the AM portion of the day.

As we settled in for his morning nursing session I took note that he was slightly distracted and said a prayer of patience. The older he gets the easier it is for the littlest thing to grab his attention and as he tries to take in the entire world at once he forgets that he is, at the moment, attached to my chest. I'm constantly trying to make sure he doesn't rip anything off while eating as he turns his head, pulls back, or vigorously kicks his feet in the excitement of who knows what.

This morning I got lucky, he let go before pulling back and giving me a full gummy grin. Laughing I asked if he was done and watched as his eyes grew large at the sight of my nipple. He looked at it like he had never seen it before and fascination radiated from him from head to toe. He mouthed like he was hungry but as I attempted to reattach him he reached out and grabbed me instead. Upon him getting a hold of me he was squirted with his breakfast causing me to let out a laugh. The shock on Andrew's face as he was squirted with milk was hysterical and followed with a laugh of his own. Smiling he reached for me again and I caught his hand before he could squirt more milk on the two of us and encouraged him to latch instead, no success.

His excitement over his most recent discovery was unabated and he kicked his legs furiously while trying to eat and smile up at me at the same time. Surprisingly the milk stayed in his mouth as he continued to kick and then out of no where started to smack my breast. The noise and obvious increase of milk caused another look of shock and excitement. He was so proud of what he had discovered and seemingly wanted to further his research. After only a minute or so of this game and discovery I clamped down on his feet with my elbow and his hand with my own and did my best to encourage him to stop playing with his food and just eat, which he finally did.

Now unless he is down right starving he wants to play with his food. When given a bottle he gets right down to business but when nursing he wiggles, giggles, kicks, and attempts to play; anyone know how to get him to focus with out starving him first?

Milk It

For months prior to giving birth I fretted and worried over whether or not I would breastfeed or formula feed my baby. I devoured article after article on the debate and even attended a free breastfeeding class offered at a local hospital. Advice was given freely to me on the subject and each seemed to have a strong opinion one way or the other. I found that scientific research varied just as much as human opinion as to which was the better option. There are numerous reasons and scientific proof on both options and for some the choice is made for them. I was lucky enough to be able to make my own choice.

One month before my son was born I made a decision to breastfeed with a realistic goal of 6 months; keeping in mind that my goal may change once I returned to work and saw how my body responded to pumping. Again, the advice came pouring in: bottle vs. breast, pumping vs. nursing, how often of each, ect. My head, yet again, began to swim with all the options that were involved when feeding my son as I, for the second time, set out to take in as much information on the subject as my brain could handle. In the end I decided to make my own decision and I find that it changes on a daily basis as I allow my body to tell me whether or not I need to nurse or can allow my husband to give our son a bottle.

My need to work both emotionally and financially sent me out on a search for the perfect pump and for the third time this first time mom scowered the internet for research and reviews. I learned very quickly that my insurance would completely cover the cost of my pump with a prescription from my doctor and an order from the right provider and I was able to save us over $300. With the goal of 6 months of breast feeding in mind I began pumping and saving and storing every drop of breast milk I could.

Surprisingly, some of the most common questions asked to me as a new mom are: "How is the breast feeding going?" and "Are you still sticking with it?"


The picture above shows our current supply of breast milk. Each plastic bag (5) contains around 20 6-8 ounce bags of breast milk, which is roughly 700-800 ounces of milk or a 2 months supply.

I'd say the nursing/ pumping is going pretty well... ;)

Three Months

There are days where I just can't believe that my little guy is three months old. He seems so much bigger than three months and we can see him progressing and learning every day.

He is still very much a sweet heart and loves to smile at anyone who will look at him! On numerous occasions he has melted the hearts of complete strangers whether they be man or woman. Who wouldn't be won over by that sweet smile, big blue eyes, and red hair?! I tease Brandon that he's so content with strangers that one day someone will whisk him away from the daycare and he won't say a word in protest.

He has begun to fuss a little more but only when hungry or overly tired and is otherwise content to sit, watch, or talk to himself. He loves to carry on a conversation with anyone who's willing to talk to him and as he gets older I foresee him getting in trouble in school for his excessive talking; just like his mommy.

While most days is he is content to entertain himself with his own hands or the sight of his own feet I've noticed in the last week or so that he is showing signs of separation anxiety as I go to leave him at daycare. This is an issue I have mixed emotions over. I love that my son misses me and wants me around; however, I don't want him stressing out every time I leave. His day care has handled it marvelously and we could not be happier with the choice we made in placing him in their care during the day.

I guess you could say that we are still in la-la land when it comes to being parents. I am not saying that I want to jump into having another child right now; the thought of being pregnant again right now is NOT at all appealing, but we both are completely open to another one when the time feels more appropriate.

In the mean time we are enjoying every minute, smile, and crocodile tear that Andrew wants to give us. :)

Button

For weeks each time that I have gone into the nursery to change Andrew’s diaper on the changing table I have found the lid to the wipes box laying on top of the box. Every time I grew frustrated at having to, yet again, put the lid back on the box and wondered what in the world Brandon was doing to the box to have the lid CONSTANTLY broken off. One night after changing Andrew I finally remember to ask; I picked up the box and asked Brandon to show me how he opened it. I watched as he took his fingers to the edge of the lid and a loud belly laugh escaped from me as the lid popped off in his hand. Laughing with me he asked what was so funny? I once again replaced the lid on the box and with a dramatic sweep of my hand I pushed the button that opened the box without removing the lid. Brandon’s eyes grew in size as we both laughed and he shouted:

“ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!”

I shut the lid and pushed the button a second time allowing the lid to pop open without popping off. I doubled over in laughter as Brandon laughed and cried out: “They need to have new daddy orientations for these type things!” As I continued to laugh at my sweet husband he refused my sympathetic hug and teased me to get out. While making my exit I dramatically showed him how to open the wipes box again and again. :)

I wonder if I’ll find the lid torn off later just to spite me… and the box.