ThanksAbbyGiving

The first official holiday with Abby was great. Halloween doesn't count because we didn't spend time with more extended family, there was no dinner table or yummy appetizers, and, most importantly, no lemon stuff. I think any real holiday is defined by the presence of lemon stuff. For those of you who are ignorant in the understanding of lemon stuff, I am sorry, but cannot explain it to you, as it is too powerful.

We went to the south shore to spend time with Aunt Christine and Uncle Tiny. Abby wore her very prettiest outfit that she picked out herself - already a bargain shopper. (only $12 at target!) She put on her beautiful new ballet shoes picked out by Grandma and we were on our way! Abby was wonderful, as usual, and slept the entire car ride.

It was great having another soul in the house and how strange to know that there were now three generations in one room! Abby loved the attention she got from everyone and was very tired out that evening. I figure she better get used to it. Even the dogs gave her a friendly sniff to welcome her!

Dinner was great but as expected Abby stole the show. Halfway through dinner, only two people were left at the table and the rest were in the living room with Abby. It only takes one person to feed her, but it takes three to watch her eat.

Maybe next year, Abby will be at the table with us, making a mess and again interupting everyone else's meal. I can't wait. And, perhaps next year, I will introduce her to lemon stuff so that she too may understand what makes a holiday. Family and lemon stuff.

As Abby's bib said, We are so grateful for Abby. Happy Thanksgiving!!

Photo Phreak

Have I caused any of you Abby overload yet? I deeply apologize. It is just from my point of view, I can't get enough. I realized, though, that I might have a problem when I had two rolls to be developed from the past...week. I dropped them off Monday night for one hour developing and could hardly sleep that night waiting to pick them up Tuesday morning.

After a morning of convincing Abby she had injested enough food for a quick car ride, we were off! It was sprinkling outside but nothing was going to stop us from picking up those pictures. We dodged the disgruntled Walmart customers driving haphazardly in the parking lot, jumped over puddles and even found time to pretend we did not see the Salvation Army man (or hear his bell ringing). No time for charity, Mommy needs her Abby picture fix.



All the carts were soaked inside, but a Walmart employee noticed me in my panic, and offered me a dry cart. I hope I remembered to thank her. I took the cart and put Abby's car seat in. I stood at the front of the store and planned my path to the picture booth. I know the shortest way distance wise, however, that path is generally clogged with traffic due to the registers. No, instead, I would walk through the clothing department (always empty). As I passed the maternity section, I saw the One Hour Photo sign hanging in the air 20 feet in front of me. I felt simultaneously excited and relieved.

As I got closer, I see there is no line. Impossible! But, there was one obstacle. The photo lab manager. A middle aged woman who chats with me about her life every single time she sees me. She makes Abby and I uncomfortable because she always asks to see Abby but then just stares at her. Does she smile? No. Does she ask any questions about Abby? No. She just stares at her. It is the way I would stare at a meal which I knew I hated, served to me by a friend in their home. Do you eat it? Do you respectfully decline? Do you try and feed it to the dog?



In order to break the strange gaze, I always ask her a question or try and divert her energy somehow. Maybe that is why we always end up talking about her. So far, I have learned she has a new puppy, new God-daughter, has worked there 4 years, hates her God-daughters mother and apparently thinks Abby is dogfood.

Anyhow, after an update on the new puppy and how her mother spoils it, I was able to ask for my pictures.

2 packages?

Yes, I answer, ashamed like she understands it has only been a week. Ashamed that she has seen the photos and knows I took the same picture 4 times to make sure I got a great shot. Ashamed she doesn't see the difference between those 4 shots. But there are differences and each picture is perfect. I almost wanted to take the pictures out and show her how in one shot Abby looks amazed, while in the other she is about to smile. I wanted to show her that it is important to capture all those emotions because Abby can't yet speak her feelings. I wanted to show her how one picture shows her dimple, while the other emphasizes the beautiful color of her eyes. I wanted to show her all of that but she didn't even see that looking at the actual Abby who was sitting right in front of her.



Defeated, I continued shopping and didn't look at my pictures. When I finally got back to the car, I opened the first envelope and saw the first picture. Perfect! Suddenly, everything feels right again and I realize, it doesn't matter that the middle-aged photo lab manager with the new puppy can't see her perfection. I see it, I know it and I am so thankful for it. I can't wait to get home, show them off and store them just as preciously as gold.

I did it.

Today was the first day that I did it. I have watched so many mothers do it in stores, in the park, in the car, and basically at any public place you can imagine. I promised myself I would never do it, and rightly so, because those people who do it look unbalanced and insane. And yet, today, I did it. In Walmart. In the card aisle and most disturbingly, with other people around. If you are faint of heart (and stomach) do not read ahead.

I, Courtney, baby talked to Abigail while she was sleeping in her carseat which was at the top of my cart. I did this spontaneously in the middle of the aisle. To make matters worse, I uttered "what are you doing? sleeping?". It was like the scene from A Christmas Story when Ralph screams "FUDGE" (only it wasn't fudge). The world suddenly went in slow motion and I couldn't stop the words from coming out of my own mouth! In my haze, I heard some older human-resource Walmart woman demand over the intercom: "Would the crazy woman in aisle 6 please stop baby talking to the sleeping child. It is disturbing the child and all the other customers. If you cannot control yourself, you will be asked to leave and DSS will be contacted".

Those of you who have read the above and have decided to end any relationship with me, I support your decision and wish I could do the same.

The situation was amplified two fold from the usual embarassment of baby talk in a public place. The first amplification was the fact that Abigail was sleeping. Why on earth was I talking to her? I would like to defend myself by saying that perhaps it is the endless hours alone at home with Abigail that caused me to have this sick outburst. Besides talking to Dr. Phil, Oprah and occasionally Maury Povich, I generally do not speak to other adults during the day. This withdrawal causes me to have conversations with Abby that, let's be honest, she might not understand.

The second amplification was the statement I made. "What are you doing...sleeping?" Isn't this obvious? What kind of question was this? This type of talk makes me nervous for Abigail. As she grows up, she might not develop mentally if I only challenge her with these obvious questions. Can you imagine? "What are you doing Abby? eating? walking? reading? going to college?" Or perhaps she will develop normally and just wonder at how her mom turned stupid at her birth.

Years from now, Adam and Grandma will have to tell Abby stories about when mommy was a normal human and had a semblance of intelligence. I hope Abby and I can escape this maternity leave no worse for the wear. All I know is from now on, I am watching my mouth when in Walmart.

Buttered popcorn poop

If you had told me a year ago that I would have been clapping and praising another human being for pooping, I would have told you it was just about as likely as me becoming a supermodel. And yet, last night at 8:45 I found myself doing just that. Clapping and praising Abigail and coaching her through each push.

At around 5:30 last night, Abby woke up with a very unhappy tummy. Per our discussion with the doctor, we could expect that little Abby would have some trouble with her bowels until they matured at about 3 months but last night was above and beyond. You could see the pain on Abby's face as she writhed and pushed with all her might. Her beautiful face was bright red and she kept coughing from all the pushing. Adam tried to explain to her that if we could, we would get the poop out for her, but unfortunately that is something she would have to do on her own.

Per review of online articles, calls to Grandma's and our own parental intuition, here are the many steps we took in order to help Abby poop:

1. Bicycle motion with her legs. For babies who cannot yet crawl, this is a great way to get the bowels moving. Abby loves it especially because we sing to her whilest we exercise her little chubby legs. I am not convinced that this helps at all but it usually stops the crying.

2. Tummy massage. Much like the bicycle motion - this is designed to get bowels moving. Contrary to the bicycle motion - Abby does not enjoy this at all. (Neither do I if you want honesty) The pressure applied during the massage seems to make Abby more uncomfortable.

3. Warm compress. We put a towel in the dryer and let it get really warm before applying it to Abby's tummy. Yes, it stopped the crying but not due to relief of gas pains. No, I am pretty sure, Abby stopped crying because she was wondering how on earth the hospital let us take her home.

4. Pressure on the tummy. Abby lays on our forearm or thigh strategically so that air is pushed out of her belly while we rub her back. Unfortunately, this position is awkward as I am never sure what to do with Abby's head. She usually tries to suffocate herself by placing her head face down in my hand or my knee (probably to stop the pain of having to poop). She likes to do this, and it is 2nd to the bicycle motion but mommy and daddy are nervous about the suicidal tendancies it creates.

5. Counter-pressure. Holding Abby's feet so that she has something to push against. This can be amplified by actually pushing Abby's legs up to her chest to get her in the "natural poop position". Sometimes this helps, sometimes it hurts.

6. Does she feel hot to you? Taking her temperature rectally usually causes her to get it going. Of course, this only works when we really just want to check her temperature.

7. Bath. Warm water helps them to relax and in turn helps their bowels relax. Unfortunately for us, Abby does not enjoy the bath like most babies. There is no relaxing.

8. Mylicon gas drops. Drops that are supposed to help relieve gas in the tummy but as we have noticed, and as our doctor has told us, it is really just expensive trash.

9. Singing and bouncing. (Note that the methods are getting more desperate). Daddy and I made up many songs about the "mean poop" and how to get it out while mommy bounced Abby on her knee. Abby enjoyed the music very much, however, it did not seem to get the bowels moving. Imagine that. "poopy come out, where is that poopy, poopy come out..." (see the link for additional poems and songs)

10. Last resort. Daddy and Mommy took a cue from every ghost show we have ever seen on TV, and held Abby's hind quarter to our face while screaming "Come towards the light". 10 minutes later, I think it did the trick....

And there we were over 3 hours later, finally in the middle of the bowel movement. After the first squirt (sorry), it is all downhill. At 8:57, there it was. You could see the relief on Abbys face as she realized her pushes were no longer in vain. We knew for sure it was coming when we smelled the famous odor fill the room. Abby's poop smells like buttered popcorn - mixed with poop. (Apparently we are not alone!!!) Mommy begain clapping and cheering and screamed to daddy who was in the kitchen. Of course Daddy joined the chorus and we even called Grandma to update her on the progress.

Never had I been so excited to clean poop out of a diaper, and not because I was glad that the crying was over, but because I was glad that Abby wasn't in pain anymore. Daddy and I stood over her cleaning the poop and watching her smile realizing how nice her tummy felt, and we were happy to be there, doing that.

We must really be parents.

Giggles and Coos

From the time Abigail was two days old, we knew what her smile looked like.
At around two weeks, we knew the sound of her giggle. Of course, both of these only occured while she was sleeping. It was quite fun imagining what was making our sleeping baby girl giggle. Popular guesses include:

1. She was a comedian in a past life and is re-telling her jokes to herself now (of course they are so good they span through past lives to current lives)

2. She is remembering peeing on her grandmother in the doctors office waiting room and ensuring all liquid soaked her grandma's crotch area in order that others would wonder "who actually peed their pants?"

3. She remembers ensuring that her mother could not brush her teeth for more than 8 strokes for over 6 months. Even better, if her mother tried to brush her tongue, breakfast would come right back up.

4. She is picturing what she is going to do to us when she wakes up.

I read in that Dr.Sears, we know everything about babies b/c we had 89 of our own, book that when babies smile in their sleep they have a feeling of "inner wellness". How on earth do they know that? Did a psychic tell them? And even if a psychic were to try and connect - could they? If an infant doesn't know a language, then language do they think in?

Anyhow, this is all leading up to something - a MILESTONE day for Abigail yesterday. Our little burping, farting, eating, pooping, peeing machine had a couple of breakthroughs yesterday.

First, and biggest, she giggled SOCIALLY. And she did it with style. After a burping session ended in a manly "I just chugged a glass of beer" biker burp, I exclaimed "What a good burp!". Abigail replied with a smile and a giggle! The high lasted about 2 hours and I can still picture that little smile and giggle! (it was a really good burp..)

Second, and not biggest, she cooed responsively for the first time. Abby has always provided us with occasional "mm that was good" coos or "are you really my parents?" coos but never responsively. Yesterday, after a deep conversation, Abigail appeared as though she had a tummy ache. She was writhing her little body, kicking her legs and punching her arms out everywhere. Her head was moving side to side and her mouth was frozen in a "o" position. Then it was apparent what all this physical exercise was for. Abby exclaimed "ohhhhouuuuuu".

Being the wonderful mother I am...haha...I had read that when they coo to you to imitate their noises and given them time to respond. Well, what an afternoon we had. Though it took her about 5 min to get out the coo everytime, she did it! Grandma even came for a quick visit and Abby gave her a thrill with great big "ohhhouuuu!". That was when Grandma giggled in a way similar to Abigail's proud burp giggle.

Colic Daze (and nights)

Around 3 or 4 weeks your seemingly sweet baby angel becomes a demon sent by Satan to destroy your life and taunt you. It becomes painfully clear that your baby is only happy when you are miserable. In fact, this "sense" becomes so clear that the moment you begin to fall asleep after laying them down, they wake up. It is almost as if there is a string connected from your eyelids to theirs and when your lids go down, it pull theirs up.

I may propose a thesis on this "demon" theory. According to this official webpage, demons have a couple of characteristics:

1. Tufts of hair which grow out of their ears usually at a 30 degree angle.
(Upon close inspection of Abby's ears, I have noted a great deal of fuzz which outlines the rims. Her doctor has assured me that this will fall off eventually...)

2. Canine teeth.
(I propose that infants do not get their teeth until 6 months to ensure that their true demonistic states are not clear in the beginning...)

3. A minature of their original being on their head - worn like an accessory.
(Abby is a minature of what she will BECOME. This is a variant of the above characteristic again to hide her TRUE nature...)

This wonderful demonistic time is described by most doctors as "colic" though the new age phrase is a "hurting baby". (I think the more appropriate term would be "hurting parent") In Abigail, this is characterized by extreme gas and pressure in her little belly. Most often it doesn't flair up until the evening hours, when most humans are winding down and want to get some rest.

As I explained to Adam, lately my emotions make me feel guilty. I love Abigail more than you could imagine from the hours of 7 a.m. to around 7 p.m. The other 12 hours I curse my ovaries for working, my birth control for not working, and console myself with thoughts of January, when supposedly, her three month birthday will magically erase all these symptoms. In the meantime, I have everyone and their great aunt telling me to appreciate and cherish every moment because it goes by too fast. I do not, and will not pretend, that I appreciate ANY moment which involves a colicky Abby.

Ensure that you play with your 1-month old. If not, this could be detrimental to their development. Abby and I try to play but most generally we both get bored. I sing to her and she watches my mouth trying to determine what on earth I am saying and if it involves food. I dance with her and she stares at me with a blank stare wondering if it involves food. I hold dolls and toys in front of her and put her in a chair with a mobile above. She is mesmorized by all of these and, I think, wonders which of her new toys will feed her next. I just find that there is no playing with Abby. She is all about business...the business of food.

Night Or Day?

Being out of work for a month is evidenced in my new TV talents. I am able to tell you what is on TV on at least five channels for every hour of the day. Before you conclude that my talent only works for daytime hours, I should let you know that I am equally as talented at night. In fact, I even know the nick-at-night rotations of my favorite old shows from 1 a.m. until 5 a.m.

I used to be angered as I sit awake burping Abby at 3 a.m. full well knowning Adam is sound asleep. Sometimes, I think he snores just to rub it in that he is sleeping. Anyways, as I was saying, I used to get mad. Lately though, it doesn't seem so bad. I am not sure if this is because I have now memorized which neighbors in the apartment community are up, or if it is because I am simply used to being awake at all hours of the night.

The woman straight across the apartment complex, in the apartment with the loft, like the one we originally wanted, dances from around midnight until 1 or 2. I think it is ballet, but of course, I am no expert. I think she sometimes sees Abby and I rocking in the oversized chair in the living room watching her dance. The dancing keeps me entertained and puts Abby to sleep. Abby likes fluid movement and there is none more fluid than a ballet dancer.


Abby takes her best nap in the early afternoon. Everyone says that I should be napping at this time too, but even after a month, I cannot get myself to. If I nap any semblance of adult life, wrapped in sanity, is gone. Then my world truly is ordered and arranged by our new arrival, Abigail.