Heavy Lifting

Recently I've been reminded of the movie Lady In the Water (not one of M. Night's best). One of the characters in the movie only works out one arm, leading it to be substantially bigger than the other. The thought leaves me somewhat concerned.

This whole mothering thing has turned out to be quite a workout. Not only does feeding Jack help me burn hundreds of calories each day, but lifting and carrying the little dude has definitely been working my muscles. I remember how sore my shoulders and back were the first few weeks after he was born, I'm pretty sure mothering involves muscles I'ver never used before!


We're guessing Jack weighs around 18 lbs., based on our primitive measures (a.k.a. stand on the scale with the baby, stand on the scale without the baby, subtract; repeat process until the numbers make sense). And he's only going to get heavier. Some people suggest keeping diaper changing supplies on all floors of your house, to avoid having to trek up and down the steps each time. I purposely did not do this just for that reason. Jack pretty much only sleeps in his bed for naps and nighttime, and I only change his diaper up in his room. That adds up to toting "Tank" up and down the steps for quite a few trips. When he's in his car seat carrier that's another 5 lbs. or so, and since our living area is on the second floor, it can be pretty exhausting to lug the baby from house to car and back again. Any mother knows how difficult it is to appear graceful while carting around a baby carrier. I'm sure my neighbors get a kick out of watching me leave the house carrying baby, diaper bag, work binder, and lunch, lock the door, and struggle to lift Jack-and-carseat into the Jeep and maneuver him to the middle seat. All while wearing heels. Phew!


Since I'm right handed, I tend to favor my right arm when carrying Jack around. I've recently noticed it's been a little sore. Immediately I thought of the one-arm-workout man. So I've been checking in the mirror to make sure both my arms are a similar size and trying to switch Jack over to the left side when I think of it. If anyone's looking for a great workout program this year, I'm open to babysitters!!

Progress is a Spiral: Jack Throws Mom for a Loop

I haven't written an update on Jack's nighttime sleep in a long time. Partly because, until recently, not much has changed. Jack started sleeping a straight 7 hours at night around 8 weeks, and aside from the holidays, pretty much stuck to it through January. Occasionally he'd shock me with a 8 or 9 hour stretch. And then last week he really threw me for a loop. One night he slept 10 hours, the next night 8, then 6, then 9 again. Every night was like Christmas Eve, not really sure what I would be waking up to in the morning. Really. A little consistency would be nice here. Do you know how hard it is to stick to a routine when every morning is a new situation?

Then I read about "progress as a spiral." How true. Just when I think I'm getting somewhere, I recognize landmarks from where we were a few weeks ago. It's so easy to get discouraged, to wonder if my baby will ever take a normal nap again, if I'll be feeding him 6-7 times a day for the rest of his life, if my mornings will always start at 4-5am? And then I realize, these are the same fears I had 2 or 3 months ago, just not quite as severe. Back then I was afraid that Jack would always require a 2 hour process to get him to sleep, that my entire day would be spent feeding my child, that he would sleep so much during the day that his brain wouldn't get enough exercise ... :)

Progress is definitely a spiral, and 2 months from now I'm sure I'll be wondering about a whole new set of issues, and the fact that Jack doesn't sleep the same amount of time each night will be a laughable event. I'm working with the overall goal in mind - to give Jack peaceful nighttime sleep, enough food to keep him growing healthily and the right amount of fun and stimulating activity to keep his little mind developing - and letting the individual days fall as they will.

Now showing!

This week I purchased Jack his first Baby Einstein DVD. I've heard good things about this series and how it aids in childrens' language development. A quick search on Wikipedia though quickly counters everything I've heard. Oh well, I'm not too concerned. Occasionally watching small children play with toys to the tune of classical music can't be that bad. Besides, it's much more on his level than the History channel. But have you ever seen these Baby Einstein movies? They're kinda creepy ... Jack seems to enjoy them though. He's enthralled by the drip, drip of colored water. Notice the little bald spot on the back of his head. :( At least he still has the majority of his hair left.

I love the way he clutches his little blanket these days. Unfortunately, the only blankies he likes to hold are the ones I use for drool and spit-up. Try as I may, I just can't get him attached to his adorable sailboat blankie or stuffed monkey that I force him to sleep with. They might as well not exist.

Now back to the show, and watching wooden toys move all by themselves in front of a white backdrop.

Phantom Baby

I think a mother is created with this unequivocal ability to "tune in" to her baby's cries. I can hear Jack when no one else can. And while his cries may not bother some people, they go straight to my heart. Yesterday Jon asked me how it felt to know that when Jack cries, he's crying for me. I'm sure that unless he's truly hungry, he'd be more than satisfied with his dad, but it is nice to know that you're wanted.
From that very first ultrasound so long ago, I was relieved to learn that we would only have one baby to care for. Eight months later, little did I know, that in addition to Jack, I was also bringing the Phantom Baby home from the hospital. The Phantom Baby always shows up when Jack is on his best behavior. He wakes me up at night, and keeps me on my toes during the day. Sometimes I think I hear Jack cry during a nap. I run upstairs to check on him only to find him sleeping soundly in his bed. I hear a chair squeak in the office next to me, and I'm positive that Jack is somewhere in my office crying for me to get him. I'll wake up in the middle of the night to feed Jack, only to find that the Phantom Baby has struck again... Jack is out cold, not even remotely hungry.
It would seem that the Phantom Baby steals more hours of my sleep than my real baby. I cannot tell you the number of times I've dreamt that I was feeding Jack, only to awake in a panic because I couldn't find him anywhere. How many times have I shaken Jon awake asking him where Jack was? Or the nights I've woken to find myself half-sitting, my arms laying across my belly, rocking my Phantom Baby to sleep. Last week I was afraid that Jack might be getting sick, I dreamt that he was throwing up. I went rushing into his room at 3:30am only to find him perfectly peaceful.
Over 3 months since Jack's arrival, and Phantom Baby is still a figment I'm forced to contend with on a daily basis. Not sure how long this one will last, I just hope he makes his exit before Jack starts walking. I certainly don't want to be chasing two toddlers around the house!

Just one complaint

Like I said, I'm really enjoying mommy-hood and I've learned to adjust to a life of less sleep, lots of messy diapers and timing challenges. But one thing I've not yet become accustomed to, even after 3 months, is the whole spit-up deal. But while I haven't gotten used to it, I have learned when to expect it: (a) right after I've changed my clothes, (b) right after I've changed Jack's clothes, (c) right when I need to be out-the-door, (d) when I'm on the phone or (e) when I'm not paying attention and then I get to work and realize there's a patch of dried milk on my shoulder. My laundry load has doubled with the added "spit cloths," and I've been smelling sour milk in my sleep. Not to mention the throw pillows we've already had to toss. It's a good thing our landlord installed carpet the color of curdled milk, and kuddos to my honey for picking out a beige sofa, otherwise our home might resemble a landmine. Jon and I have considered getting a new couch this year, but what's the point? Might as well wait until we're through having kids.
I've heard mixed reviews on spit-up. Some say it's the result of an immature digestive system, others say it could be overeating, or maybe it's that I'm jostling him too much. Naturally, I checked things out on Babycenter. Apparently it is all these things, and doesn't appear to be one in particular. Since spitting up is natural and common, I guess I'll just learn to deal with it for the next 3-4 months. As with all challenges of baby-rearing, it's only temporary.
The other night I was feeding Jack for the last time before going to bed. It was late and we were both tired from a busy day at work and the sitter. Jack always poops while I feed him, so I usually wait until well after he's finished to change his diaper. The only problem is that at night he'll just be starting to drop off while he's eating, and then I have to change him and smiling, giggling, playful boy is back in full force, just in time to lay down for the night. So anyway, the boy that was sleeping in my arms only seconds earlier is now squealing with all his might. I try to be quiet and serious during this time, just so he knows it's time for bed and not for play, but it's pretty hard when twinkle-eyes here is thumping his legs on the changing table and pounding his fists in the air. Just as I go to sit him up, he lets out an "Ahhh" that sounded about 15 years too early for a baby. I was laughing so hard I missed the signal and was soon covered in Jack's delicious night time snack. In my hair, down the shirt I had just pulled out of the clean laundry basket, trailing down my pants and puddling on the floor. I had to keep laughing, I didn't know how else to respond. So I decided to try to feed him a little more to see if he'd calm down for bed, within seconds I heard the all-too familiar gurgling sound of a Jack poop. Right into the freshly changed diaper. So it was back to the changing table, and back to more toothless smiles and high-pitched laughter. And then right to bed where Jack smiled himself to sleep and mama scrubbed herself down for the night. I think my husband finally understands why I prefer to "dress-down" during the day.

Changing Times ... Timing Changes

Jon and I are fairly organized, efficient people. Ever since the days of being the last kid picked up from piano lessons or field hockey practice, I've vowed I would never be late. I may have taken things a little too far. As my one friend puts it - "Janine is notoriously early." But having a baby around has definitely challenged our timing. Running errands is no longer a spur of the moment decision, now I must plan them into my schedule. We no longer have leisurely Sunday mornings, as both of us our tag-teaming with the baby to get out the door by 8:15. And getting ready to head to work and drop Jack off at the babysitter requires more than one trip to the car to get everything in.
Jack got dedicated in our home church while we were in over Christmas. The night before, Jon's final words to his sister (who is nearly his opposite in matters of timeliness) were, "If you're late to church you're un-invited to my birthday dinner." [As a sidenote, Rachel does have 4 active little boys to get ready for church]. Sunday morning rolls around and what-do-you-know Rachel and her boys have second row seats, and the junior Tillman's nearly miss Jack's dedication when they arrive two-minutes late. Jon says it's my fault. I will admit to being the last one out the door that morning, but only because according to his watch I had 10 minutes to spare. Apparently his watch was wrong. So thank you Jack for that delicious slice of humble pie, it was the perfect dessert to Jon's birthday dinner.

The 45-minute intruder

So Jack and I have been working on naps this past week. Jon has been out of town and it was a good opportunity to just stay home and focus on teaching Jack to take solid naps in his bed. We'd been working on this before, but after spending 10 days traveling, meeting new people and spending the majority of time in sleeping in someone's arms, we needed a refresher course.
Jack's been super about going to bed at night. He goes down without a peep and sends himself off to sleep with no trouble. But for some reason naps have been a little more difficult. Babies must be much smarter than we realize. I've always wondered how he knew the difference between a nap and his real bedtime. He must be very intuitive.
At this point, Jack takes about 4 two-hour naps a day, he usually starts out strong in the morning, but like most babies, finishes off the day a bit more fussier than he started. One thing I've noticed is that he wakes up about 45 minutes into each nap, but if I went to get him he was still clearly tired. Tracy Hogg (author of the Baby Whisperer) calls this the 45-minute intruder. How clever! Apparently, babies' transition from REM to deep sleep after about 45 minutes, during which time they are easily woken. Most times Jack's able to get himself back to sleep, other times I have to give him a little assistance, and still other times it's a hopeless cause and he just needs some snuggle time with mommy. But I'm learning to be patient and wait it out a little before rushing in to rescue him from The Intruder. Oh the monsters we moms must learn to battle!