Pass the Pampers

It was our first day at home with our first baby. I was busy running circles around the house frantically wondering what to do with my new bundle. Hubby had run to Costco to buy last minute baby accessories.

My cell phone rang.

“Honey, I’m here at Costco and I noticed they have…Um….feminine napkins here. Ya can buy a box of 100. Do ya need 'em?”

My heart glowed. This was the man I married. White knight that he was, remembering my most personal items. Doing my thinking for me when my brain was so fuzzy.

I threw kisses and a pet name or two into the phone and sighed. What a fella.

Over the next few days, I began to notice how odd these discount feminine napkins were. Stiff and unusually curved…I certainly won’t buy these again, I noted. Too bad there were a few hundred left. Thinking hubby bought the wrong absorbency, I read the back.

As I strained to read the finer writing, I learned about this pad’s wonderful Absorb-loc core, its soft comfort and the amazing protection it would offer me. I learned how this absorbent pad would offer the greatest level of coverage for the woman with medium-light bladder leakage…. Back up. Pop her in reverse. Hubby bought me diapers? Yes, the light bulb above my head began to light up as I stood there in my, um…..yes, adult diapers. I had thought it was an odd brand for a great price. In fact, Poise is one of the most popular bladder control pads out there.

After a good hyena laugh which threatened to bust my C-section stitches, I attempted to send hubby back to the store with the box.

Hubby refused. Wouldn’t do it. Apparently, it was embarrassing enough to buy a mega box of menstrual pads in a crowded Costco on a Saturday. Now, the thought of returning an open box of adult diapers unnerved him. Wouldn’t do it.

“Couldn’t you…um…maybe use them?” he ventured to ask. “They work, right?”

“What?!” My voice was more shrill than I had expected.

“Couldn’t you save them for later?” he continued.

“Later? As in 40 years later?”

“Well, maybe you could give them away?” He still had hope in his voice.

“And, I could give these to…?”

“A homeless shelter…Maybe a church?...A retirement home?”

I admired his sense of charity, but once again the thought of carrying that opened box out into the brightly lit, very public world horrified us both.

So, trash bin it went in the dead of the night. And, I still feel guilty.

Such is the story of my one day spent in adult diapers. May it be my last.



PS I hope I didn’t offend my Poise wearing bloggy friends with this post. I do have more to add to the confession. If this were to happen today, with this economy, I’d use the darn things! What a couple of wasteful chumps!

Death by Baby Safety

It all began with my Baby Safety Class in the hospital. Pregnant, wide eyed and bushy tailed, I took copious notes and listened intently. ”A home is a dangerous place,” warned my Safety teacher. Later, at home, we bolted and screwed, applying gadgets, latches and locks throughout our homestead. Chipping paint and creating gaping holes in drywall, we were a man and wife Captain Safety Crew. When the baby proofing was complete, we were proud of our secure little nest, safety screws, bolts and all. We slept better at night knowing we protected our offspring with the best Home Depot had to offer.

I faced my first safety crisis when, at 3:00 AM, I found myself with a screaming newborn, a screwdriver and a baby swing that was clearly dead in the water. Previously, I felt secure and smug knowing that the batteries were tightly screwed into the swing, safe from my colicky newborn’s tiny taste buds. And, now I cursed and snarled under my breath at stripped bolts and @#$% safety regulations.

I figured a wee bending of the rules was acceptable given the late hour and found the out dated electric swing complete with the long frayed electrical cord. This was when I lost my first thumbnail, prying away at the electric outlet safety cover. Nursing my thumb, I found my way into the bathroom. That safety lock on the medicine cabinet put up a good fight before I broke it in half, cracking my second thumbnail below the quick.

Not one to take an injury lightly (insert wince here), I rushed into the kitchen in search for an icepack only to be reminded of the hazards of the kitchen by our expandable baby gate (which was fully expanded at the time, thanks for asking.)

That was it. I had had enough. This gate deserved an aggressive hurl into the back of the closet. And hurled it was, following a 10 minute battle of the wills between myself and the closet doorknob safety cover. (Was it push and then twist clockwise? Or twist counterclockwise while simultaneously pushing? Perhaps a cryptic clockwise-counterclockwise-Morse Code-a la DaVinci Code- back and forth combination twist?) I reached a brief low point when my front teeth made aggressive contact with the doorknob safety cover. I then decided to involve hubby who was snoring in bed.

I believe my rag doll body did a complete 360 degree spin mid-air after my foot became entangled in our safe infant car seat that had been innocently sitting in the living room. The roar that emanated from my lungs echoed through the baby monitor, re-awakening colicky baby and causing hubby to reach for our safety flashlight under the bed. That flashlight rushed down the hall, in hubby’s hand and was beamed into my spinning eyeballs as I lay, collapsed on the floor, battered and bleeding, but happy, nonetheless, to be reclining peacefully.

Death, by baby safety…quite the heroic exit.

To Diaper a Beast

Now, I’ve seen a wiggly baby with a full diaper before. After two babies, I should be a pro at diapering a wiggly baby (ya think?). But, this one is different. There is almost a premeditation to her wiggles. (Ha, ha, let’s see how much I can frustrate my adults!)

Once the diaper is off, she twists that dirty bottom counterclockwise, while simultaneously turning her upper half clockwise, legs in a bicycle spin, back arched and hands thrashing wildly reaching for anything to smear, stain and otherwise ruin your day (or outfit). If you are lucky, you can manage to grab a foot and elevate her soiled lower half before it makes contact with A. your hand B. your hair C. your sleeve D. the carpet or E. whatever happens to be unlucky enough to be within a 12 inch radius at the time. Once the wipes are whipped out, the bicycle spin accelerates, the screaming escalates and the whole frenzy reaches a tipping point. The naked target is moving about wildly, making your aim a little off. If you’re lucky, you may land one or two good wipes to the bull’s eye. A good wipe to any part of the lower region counts for points, too. ( Bath maybe later?)

Now, for the re-diaper. At this point, the naked target has righted itself, much like a toppled turtle, and is rapidly heading for the nearest exit. You, being the fool that you are, chase your little target, diaper in hand, hoping for a tidy and quick resolution to the problem. Hopefully, by this time, the reinforcements have been called in and have circled around to head her off at the pass. Once trapped, the wild beast will not respond to reason (even with tasty bribes). Rather, the frenzy will escalate to such a point that one considers that perhaps it is easier to deal with a stained carpet for a couple years. However, with a good wrestling match, much sweating and physical exertion, two adults can diaper a 12 month old with minimal damage.

However, as the whole task repeats itself every 2-4 hours, a martini may be in order. Might I suggest a strong one?

The Mommy Watering Hole

During my first year of motherhood, I stalked moms at Target (see Mommy Isolation), I dabbed my toes into Infant classes (see Baby Gymboree and Baby Sign Language), before finally stumbling upon MOMS Club.

I finally found it! It was the watering hole of the mommy jungle. Here, mommies of all types, lionesses and gazelles, lingered together seeking refuge from the Stay at Home world. They banded together to form walking clubs and playgroups. They ventured out on Mommy Night Outs and field trips. They asked speakers to come to monthly membership meetings to disperse advice. They gave freely to charities, shared advice and swapped stories.

I quickly infiltrated the group, poking my nose into the Book Club, joining a playgroup and lending a hand in the Heart to Heart Club (making meals for new moms) before finally landing on the board. Yes, I took on a leadership position. I sometimes come to the board meetings wearing one slipper (I am not the only one), but I am there with (one… two) , yes, both my kids.

I support and incorporate new members and help them form new friendships. In so doing, I have formed wonderful friendships for myself, my daughters and my hubby. Families to grow with, I say. I also have found a tremendous feeling of satisfaction. “Even if I can help just one new mommy make a friend …” is my motto.

So, if you are a lone wolf howling in the woods of Stay at Home Mommydom, the watering hole is calling you.

http://www.momsclub.org/

Stroller 101

My stroller was on its side, like a wounded animal sprawled in the middle of the parking lot. Baby Boo was strapped in the car, howling. (see Colic?) And, I was appraising the wounded animal nervously.

“I think it’s dead.” I told my hubby over the cell phone. My hubby’s voice droned on and on over the cell phone, spewing stroller technical support my way. It had been my first solo outing since the stork had arrived with my first baby and, so far, the outing was a train wreck.

I had been successful in my attempt to strap Baby Boo in her car seat. I had spent the better half of the morning wrestling and restraining her little wiggly body into her infant car seat. Wasn’t that the hard part? (gulp)

Getting the stroller out of the trunk and erecting it to a full standing position proved to be a colossal act of eye hand coordination, mental focus, fine motor dexterity, and physical strength. Releasing the infant car seat from the car was another stumbling block (thanks to the secret release button). Placing the car seat on to the fully erected (get your mind out of the gutter) stroller challenged my spatial skills and tapped into a hidden reservoir of engineering ‘know how’ I didn’t know I had. The surrounding air had been littered with colorul and creative utterances ( who me?) and my post partum belly fat flopped with each push and grunt.

“Push the release button or the stroller will collapse from the weight of the car seat.,” my beloved tech guy continued.

Another button? Hit the wrong button, the whole thing collapses, hit the right button, nothing happens unless you simultaneously pull upward while applying pressure downward until you hear the victorious click. Check the brake. The brake always throws a monkey wrench into the pot. Flip the safety bar otherwise the whole kit and kaboodle could go head over heels. Adjust the strap. A twisted strap will cause the male portion of the safety belt to meet up with the female portion ( I know what you’re thinking) in such a way that they will be not be undone without the use of a screwdriver. Not a task for the faint of heart.

“Did you hear the click?” My tech support was getting anxious.

Yes, I heard the click. Yeah, for me! I was proud. I could do this Mama thing. I walked proudly with my fully erected stroller, finger nails broken, hands greasy, forearm scratched and beads of sweat glistening. Now, I just hope my tech support guy would be available for the ride home.

My Fairy BreastMother

For the past year, I have been viewed as a food source. My nursing baby eyed me in times of hunger in ways I have never been eyed before. However, the feast is just about over. I am almost finished weaning my baby now. We’re down to one feeding a day. My feelings are mixed….Surprise ( these tea cup boobies provided sustenance to another living being for a year??)….sadness ( She doesn’t need me the way she used to.)…..joy ( Thank God she doesn’t need me the way she used to!) ...mild panic ( they didn't shrink, did they?)

It has been quite the experience and I have a few ladies I need to thank…

The Breast Nazi who taught my Breastfeeding class when I was pregnant deserves a nod. “It is simply unacceptable to nurse a baby in a bathroom,” she snarled with disgust. “The more we nurse openly, the more accepted it will be.” Although, I did agree with the theory, I simply didn’t want my boobies to be soldiers in a political agenda. I just wanted to figure out how to nurse my baby. “Position please!” she barked as she walked around checking that we were positioning our ( covered) breasts correctly. In the end, she did give me some food for thought. But, at the time, her frosty demeanor made me run in the other direction in search for a lactation consultant with a softer touch.

Then, I found her….She flew into my hospital room with her fluffy angel wings widespread and calmly showed me the way…. My Fairy Breast Mother…. She lowered my anxiety, calmed my worries, and sat with me patiently. Maybe it was the drugs from the C-section, but I could have sworn there was a glowing light surrounding her and a harp playing softly while she spoke.

“ Nurture the mother and the mother will nurture the child,” she said while pouring me Breastfeeding Tea. (http://www.tealand.com/MothersMilk.asp)

She disappeared into thin air as quickly as she came, returning to Breast Fairy Heaven. But, she left me with words of wisdom. “Trust your instincts. Relax. Put nursing first. Do as little housework as possible. And if you ever need me, click your breasts together…( little joke) “ Common sense, I know. But, sometimes common sense is not so common.

“So, how much did we pay her to tell ya to relax?”

Don’t worry, ladies, He didn’t ask that question a second time.

http://www.earthmamaangelbaby.com/

Adventures in Gymboree Class

In life it's all about networking. As a new mom, I quickly learned that networking was not just a business skill. In the land of Mommy, it is what keeps you afloat. I fumbled, stumbled and tripped my way through my first year of motherhood. I searched for friendships, connection, mental stimulation and the feeling of belonging.

I enrolled in a Baby Gymboree class.

It was refreshing to sit in a circle with other mommies and their babies. We sang to our babies, gave them tummy time over a mirror ( seeing their reflection helps them push up), massaged them and mid class we answered an ice breaking question. This was my favorite part. It stimulated great conversation between women in the same place- the Newborn Fumble. Women existing on spurts of sleep and no connection to their previous lives. Women temporarily lost in the pea soup Newborn Haze. Unfortunately, the perky, well rested Gymboree teacher, who was following a script, usually rushed us through the delicious conversation. "Next class starts soon, so moving right along..." Ah, can you hear the audible snap of the cord of connection between women who so deparately needed it? After class, a few lingered. But, most rushed out to their cars allowing shyness to rule them. Hindsight being 20/20, I think many of them were afraid others would sense their desparation if they lingered too long. Others were happy to get home with a fussy baby. However, in the end, I never made a connection that extended beyond the Gymboree classroom. I continued on my quest. I signed up for Baby Sign Language.

http://www.gymboreeclasses.com/

Mommy Isolation

I saw a new mommy fumbling through the pacifiers at Target today. New baby asleep in the cart and a look of confusion mixed with the haze of sleep deprivation....Ah, memories. I walked these very hallowed aisles of Target searching through the baby goods once myself lost, confused and quite a bit lonely. Rows and rows of baby bottles, stacks and stacks of formula...Which one works? Which is the best? What is this gadget? Am I a fool to buy it? And will "somemommy" please be my friend? New mommyhood was much like first day of school anxiety, only it had sharper fangs. No one will be your playground buddy. No one wants to sit next to you at the lunch table and the teacher is absent. As a new mother, I watched the other experienced moms , carts full of a kid or two, going about their business full of confidence.
"Wanna play hopscotch with me? I'll let ya copy my homework." was not going to work on this playground. I contemplated causing a shopping cart fender bender. "Sorry. Didn't see ya. Can you sit down for a minute and tell me how you do this mommy thing. I need a one on one tutorial." Educated and professional, I had entered into this mommy thing a tad bit overconfident. Humbled quite quickly by colic, diapers and a couple of engorged boobs, I was eager to befreind a more experienced mom. My first attempts at friendship in the SAHM world began in the Baby Aisle in Target. Unfortunately, all my attempts were shot down. I mean, how does one go from "Cute baby. How old?" to " Can I have your number and address? I desparately need adult conversation."? My friends before mommyhood were all happy buzzing along at their careers, with little time for someone with a screaming bundle especially in the middle of the day. Yes, they brought presents, owwed and ahhed at the baby and then where did the conversation go? I knew quite quickly that I needed to find some new friends with whom I shared some common ground. My mommy stalking was getting nowhere. I had to take action. I enrolled in Baby Gymboree Class.

Colic?

Colic?

I struggled to hear the voice over the phone as I was distracted by my baby's cries.

"If she screams more or less for 3 hours three times a week late in the day, it's most likely colic," drums the nurse over the phone.

"Don't all babies cry?" I squeak into the phone. Somehow, giving my innocent angel the label of "colic" seemed to make her crying even worse. I watched her swinging in her baby swing, mouth open, face red....assuming the usual evening positon.

"If her crying fits the description I just gave you, it is most likely colic," repeated the voice.

"What do I do?" I winced. "Can I bring her in?"

"She will outgrow it. Usually by 3 months, it's over."

That was it. I was left alone with a very unhappy baby and told to wait it out. What? My baby was upset. She couldn't be comforted. Her crying exhausted me. What is going on? Luckily, we made it through, but only after I researched the heck out of this beast called colic. I have been curious if colic is associated with shaken baby syndrome. I tried to imagine a less patient person handling a baby with full blown colic and shuddered at the thought. Because, I am telling ya, I was a teacher in a low income neighborhood for years. I am a patient woman. But, facing colic, patience took on a new meaning. Worse yet, was the well meaning advice of friends. "Don't worry. You are a new mother, You will get the hang of it." What? Are you suggesting I am freaking my baby out? There is something to this colic. Determined to help another parent with a baby that just "won't stop crying", I have summed up all I have found.

Remedies for Colic....

*Take your baby to the doctor with a journal of his/her crying to rule out anything serious. It could also be acid reflux. There are meds that can help.
*Switch formulas. All formulas are not equal. Be careful with Soy based. It could constipate.
*Read Harvey Karp's, Happiest Baby on the Block. Pay attention to the 5 "S." - swing, swaddle, Shh, side, sucking http://thehappiestbaby.com/
*White noise machine or something that makes white noise- vaccuum, blow dryer, clothes dryer, static on radio. The machine really helped my second baby sleep thru the night.
*Movement ...rocking, walking, strolling, bounce on top of a yoga ball...
*Gripe medicine or homeopathic colic pills. I did not try , but heard it works.
*Use the colic hold, pressure on tummy
*Anit gas meds http://www.mylicon.com/
*Watch what you eat if you are breastfeeding, keep a journal
*Breastfeedng can be more tolerant than formula, give breastfeeding a try. Although, I know colic does exhaust mom, Your supply may dwindle if you are exhausted. Get help, get rest. A lactation consultant can help. Yes, some are Breast Nazis, but some are like Breastfairy Mothers... Shop around. They're your boobs.http://www.laleche.com/
*Colic kicks in around week 3 , just as you are your most sleep deprived. Be prepared.
*Dr. Brown's bottles have an anti colic appartus. All bottles are not the same, experiment
*Amby bed- this helps baby sleep longer. It places baby in womb like nest. http://www.ambybaby.com/
*Co-sleeper makes night breastfeeding easier and you get more rest. I used http://www.armsreach.com/
*Listen to the addage of " a fresh pair of arms", a child does pick up on your frustration. Hire a teenager to come in and hold your baby while you shower or nap.
*Sling, "wear your baby"
* Get support and compaionship thru a class or playgroup. The only one who understands life with a newborn is someone who is currently living with one. Amnesia quickly sets in after the newborn days are over. You may form lifelong friends.
*The baby is OK crying for a few minutes in her crib while you shower.
*Drive the baby in a car.
*Dunstan Baby Language. This lady claims that you can decipher a baby's cry. http://www.dunstanbaby.com/
* A warm bath
* Infant massage using lavender
* Pacifier
* I heard some good things about cranial osteopathy, but never tried it myself.
* Some research has proven that probiotics help with colic.
*Take the baby outside. There is something to be said about babies and fresh air.
* Yes, it is usually over by month 3.
* I have a theory ( just a theory!!) that women who use antibiotics during pregnancy may be setting up baby for colic. The antibiotics may be wreaking havoc on the baby's digestive systems prenatally. This is only from my personal experience. If ya gotta take antibiotics when pregnant, then take them! I would just recommend taking probiotics, too. Of course, you are no longer pregnant and there's nothing that can be done now, I know. Just food for thought.

Some of these tips may or may not work for your baby. All babies are different. Experimentation is part of parenthood. Keep trying. Remember, a baby changes dramatically during this first year. Every month brings new changes, joys and new challenges. This will pass.



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