Matthew and I flew back east this weekend for a whirlwind trip - to see our dearest friends Mary Ellen and Jeff get married. The wedding was beautiful - I was honored to be a part of the wedding and right before we got upstairs I got a case of the panics! I was as nervous as if I were the one getting married - all of which I think would have been a lot better had I been able to attend the rehearsal dinner. I was pushing my luck as it was, though, by leaving when I did. I took half day off of work to make it at all - this is what happens when you burn through all of your sick and vacation time for the year.

Thank you, everyone responsible for creating AND maintaining the stupidity of the FMLA. I am insanely glad for the meager benefits, but insanely jealous, in some ways, of my Canadian neighbors.

Anyway.

The wedding was beautiful. Mary Ellen was radiant and her smile was so infectious. Jeff was grinning from ear to ear, when he wasn’t choking up at the vows. Me, I should have brought a tissue - I cried when Mary Ellen walked down the aisle! I also got my glasses all wet because for some reason my contacts felt like they were on fire so I didn’t wear them. The reception was lovely and the staff was wonderful too.

Brief interlude now on momming.

I have never, not once, encountered a single negative person with regards to my nursing Matthew in public. Today at the reception, toward the end, Matthew needed to feed, so I fed him. Jeff’s sister did the same with Otis, her 14 month old son. I have now probably spoken too soon, but it is remarkably nice to nurse Matthew in peace - be it at home or at an airport, a wedding reception, a restaurant or a bookstore.

End momming interlude.

I really enjoy living in Chicago, and this weekend at home proves it, I think. At the very least, I love living in a big city, I love public transportation, and I love the general bustle I feel that comes from living with 3 million neighbors. Today, the driving we did solidified my desire to never own a car again. Agh.

The one thing I can’t stand about Chicago, though, is (besides the winters, the smelly El cars (see above, public transportation? I am never satisfied!), and alley honkers) that it has the third largest Starbucks market in the country - only New York and Los Angeles have more Starbucks. Now, this is unsurprising, considering Chicago is the third largest city.

The problem with this is that I loathe Starbucks’ coffee. It is burnt-tasting, too pretentious, and there are too damn many options. I am a Dunkin’ Donuts girl through and through. I stop at my local Dunks on the way to work and the guy behind the counter, a counter never as busy as the Starbucks next door, says, “Decaf with cream and splenda, right?” I like the donuts, I like how simple and uncluttered by crap my Dunks is. All Dunks are like that - nice and no frills.

Would you believe, in my travels back to Connecticut, that even counting the Providence airport, I have YET to see a Starbucks? New England loves its Dunkin’ Donuts. You know how in some cities, you can go to the lobby 5 feet away, across the street, down the block and in a kiosk in the basement and find Starbucks at every single site? That’s how it is in New England with Dunkin’ Donuts. They’re in gas stations. They’re in standalone stores. They’re a part of grocery stores. They’re in Wal*Marts. They’re everywhere. That sweet, sweet decaf coffee, splendafied, everywhere you turn.

Ah, Dunks. The one real sign, I think, that I’m home.

Dear Matthew:

It’s been three months! We can hardly believe how fast the time flies. We see pictures of you when you were first born and it is like you are another baby entirely. As I recall your birth and how I used to hold you in the crook of one arm, quite easily, you seem impossibly small back then, to us the wise old parents of a three month old infant, who is topping all of the weight and height charts. Of course back then we marveled at how big you were, especially your head.

Things You Do Now:

• SLEEP! Your sleep has improved significantly since last month! We now have a nighttime routine that starts anywhere from 6-7pm, and you’re in bed and sound asleep between 6:30-8pm. You might wake up once around midnight or 1pm, another time around 5 or 6. We’ve had a few nights where you’ve slept from 7-4:45, and went right back down again.

  We have a consistent nighttime routine for you - we start out with bathtime (and you’re much better about sitting in the tub versus a couple of months ago, where that was like shoving razors up your fingernail beds), then we dry you off and get you lotioned, diapered, and pajama’ed! We turn the lights down low and you and I settle in for your last nursing of the night. We read Goodnight Moon while you nurse. Once you’re done, I swaddle you tightly and deposit you into bed. We’ve only had a few nights where we’ve had to redeposit you or cuddle you some more before you’re off to the depths of sleep.

  You now nap better - although not so much for me, seemingly, as you do for Baba! Grandma Burnett says, “That’s because Baba doesn’t smell like milk!” You take a few naps during the day but for some reason, none longer than an hour. That might just be your deal, although man, would we love it if you took a nap for even 90 minutes.

• Smile and coo! You are always so happy and full of smiles - of course, when you’re not completely melting down into a puddle of woe. You love sitting in your vibrating chair, and your best friends are still Standing Lamp and Ceiling Fan. You have long conversations with us, telling us very detailed stories about everything and anything, accompanied by long strings of drool. That’s okay, that’s how you roll.
• Eating your hands! You’ve discovered the joy that is your fist, thumb, and fingers, and you are always chewing on them! That’s why you’re drooling so much - your fingers are activating your salivary glands in a BIG WAY! Sometimes you try to jam both fists into your mouth at once, and I admire your dedication and perserverance at impossible tasks - that will be a handy trait one day.
• Scratching your head. I think this is in part due to some stray cradle cap we’re still fighting on your head (otherwise known as “head crud” - we soak your head in baby oil and then pry it off gently with your baby comb), but when we nurse, you look up at me, and scratch the hell out of your scalp and face. That’s why we still…
• We swaddle you! Your flailing arms were keeping you awake and driving everyone except Ava nuts. We have to time it well, because if you’re not quite zoned out, you resist the swaddle and seem very put off by attempts to help you sleep. But if you’re in a mood, then the swaddle drops you right off into la-la-land.

  Like below - you were Not Ready for Swaddling and we jumped the gun:
  

  
• Drool. The amounts of drool you produce is astonishing. When we went to visit Grandma in CT I was amazed by how many bibs were gifted to you, and thought to myself, “Wow, that’s a lot. He’ll never use all of those.” Ha, I say. Ha! We have regularly gone through upwards of 3 bibs on you a day. Our shirts are always slightly damp. Alas.

You are a really big boy. When Mama or Baba walk with you down the street, you are often mistaken for a little boy who is a lot older. We often wear you around town - either in your mei tai, which Baba likes to carry you around in, your maya wrap, or more recently and Mama’s favorite, the Moby Wrap. You are tight and snug and very often within a few feet of our apartment building, you fall fast asleep.

I started back at work two Thursdays ago, half-time until this upcoming Monday, and it hasn’t been bad at all! You and I wake up together anywhere from 5:30 until 6:45 (and once at 7:30!), and after a quick nursing you either go back to sleep or get up for a good spell where we hang out while I make breakfast, finish preparing your bottles, and then I’m on my way. I pump your milk for you when I’m at work, and even though I’m not at home, I still feel connected with you. That’s really important for me. You and Baba hang out, play, coo and smile, and nap and eat.

For the first twelve or so weeks of your life, we have contracted out for a diaper service - we use cloth diapers for your bottom. Well, this past week, we looked at the numbers and decided to go full-on with cloth diapering without the service. Mama spent a few nights boiling new diapers from Be By Baby, where you and I attended a meet-up with other new moms (yes, that’s you nursing in that picture!) earlier last month. Tonight is your first night in your spiffy new diapers, so we’ll see how things go.

When I look at the news on tv or read about it in the newspaper, I want to curl up with you under the covers and stay there indefinitely. A lot of really sad things have happened and will continue to happen - everything from the war in Iraq to school shootings to inappropriate comments senators made to their students working for them. Part of me wishes I could shield you forever from the hurt, pain, and anguish that comes with life, but a greater part of me knows that you will one day grow up and get hurt, be pained, and feel anguish. My only wish for you is that when you do, you’ll feel empowered to do something to make that hurt, pain and anguish go away, to be a good person and a good man. I know you will.

Your baba and I love you so very much. We look at each other all the time and wonder aloud with amazement over the fact that there’s another human in our apartment. We tell you every day, multiple times a day, how much we love you, and we do. We love you so very much. I look back on our lives and it was as if we lived as different people before you came along - and we did. Now you’re here and we’re a mama and a baba, and it’s as if it should have always been this way.

Sometimes I have a hard time knowing whether or not I’m a good mama to you. I look at you when you are crying and I try to figure out what you want - is your diaper wet? Are you hungry? Are you bored? Are you overstimulated? Are you tired? Am I not paying enough attention to you? Sometimes guessing what you mean when you cry at any given time is so hard, but please know that I’m trying - we’re both trying. It’s not easy being a baby, is it?

These three months have sped by so fast we can hardly believe it. When you were first born, I thought that October was so far away and we would have so much time together and wouldn’t it be wonderful? It was, and it was hard too, but now here we are in October. I’m back to work now (where you are the most popular person ever!) and every Tuesday Baba will bring you up to work so the three of us can have lunch together. Thursday afternoons we will have a bit more time to play together since Baba has to go to class.

You have a lot in store for you in the next few months: in a couple of weeks you and I will head out to Connecticut to visit family again while Mama goes to Aunt Mary Ellen’s wedding, in November, the whole family will go to Connecticut for Thanksgiving, and in December we will go to California for Christmas. It will be so good to see the family again and we can’t wait!

Until next month, I am always:

Your Mama.

In your new cloth diaper, a Fuzzi-Bunz pocket diaper (oh, cloth diapers today are not like they were in years past!)

Got a thumb!

Wearing Baba’s shirt and socks - they’re a little big, do you think?

Headed to the grocery store. You weren’t very happy here. You’re wearing a hat that one of Mama’s and Baba’s friends, Cynthia, made:

Dear Matthew,

Why won’t you sit still while Mama tries to fish a booger out of your nose? If you just SAT STILL that monstrosity in your nose would be GONE and that would make you (or me?) feel so much better.

Love, Mama

—

What?

At Matthew’s two-month well baby visit, his pediatrician recommended that we start trying to wean him from nursing down to sleep, because he’s now at the age where he will make these important associations and do we want him to always need to nurse to go to sleep?

Oh, how I agonized over his sleeping for the week or so afterward. I ordered two recommended books from amazon, one of which I wanted to throw against the wall, circle it and spit three times (we are not a proponent of crying it out). The other one, The No Cry Sleep Solution, was much better, and with that combined with an article from Ask Moxie on babies and crying, I think we have a good set up going now - our night time routine is a bath, Goodnight Moon, nursing, swaddling, and depositing. It’s our system now and it really works - once we hammered it out, he really adapted well to it, and will sleep from about 8:30 (and that’s on the late side, I think; he shows signs of being tired earlier but we’re needing to finagle our schedule somewhat so we can accommodate it somehow) until 2 or 2:30 for a feeding, and then up again anywhere from 5am - 6am for another feeding. He’s better at napping now, thank goodness, although nothing with any regular frequency.

Anyway, back to the nursing. Breastfeeding is going really well. It doesn’t hurt anymore and Matthew, I think, has become more efficient at the whole game. I’ve added another pumping session and it turns out that Matthew’s voracious appetite has helped me bank about 175 ounces thus far of frozen breastmilk for when I go back to work, starting Thursday. Part of me hates pumping, but the other part of me is okay with it - there’s a certain amount of pride I feel every time I open the freezer and see the left side bulging with so many packets of frozen breastmilk, in 2 ounce little bars.

My grandmother and I talked the other day and she asked if I was still breastfeeding. “Yup, still going strong!” I said. She asked whether or not it was good for the baby - and I said it was and it was good for me too - as a nursing mom with type II diabetes, Matthew’s helping me keep my blood sugar stable.

All of the technical aspects of that aside - I really like breastfeeding. I look at how healthy Matthew is and rejoice. It’s probably the only time I’ll have when I have to slow down. And above all else, it’s the one thing I do on a daily basis since July 14th that truly makes me feel like a mother. I can change diapers until the cows come home, but the moment I put Matthew to my breast, our relationship as mother and son is solidified.

All that being said, I’m okay with nursing Matthew down to sleep for now. After a long day at work, it will be one of my only opportunities during the day to reconnect with him and to keep our relationship thriving. I’m okay with him learning that falling asleep content is a good way to fall asleep. I’m okay with the last thing he sees before he nods off into a peaceful slumber is my face.

I’m his mother, after all.

Checking in drowsily from Pill City, population: Matthew.

These past two days I’ve been experimenting at junk cooking - tossing some stuff together from the refrigerator that hasn’t gone bad and seeing what will happen. Yesterday I made an egg, bacon, and red potato scramble that came out quite tasty, using leftovers from the week’s food pillaging.

Today, I decided to go back to my roots (ha!) and made fried rice. We had a delicious Thai green curry tofu last night with brown rice (courtesy of Josh) and had leftover rice. Along with the pork theme, I heated a pan, tossed in a few slices of chopped up bacon, kim chi, some of the brown rice left over, an egg, and hoi sin sauce.

Ahh. This is sort of like cheap junk food.