Continued travels

We shook all the sand out of our swimsuits, rinsed off all the sunscreen, packed up the car and left the lake today.




But our tour of Wisconsin is not over yet! Because the drywall is being installed at home, it's too dusty to take the kids there. So we went to my parents this morning, where the wee children were scheduled to stay for the weekend anyway so Josh and I can celebrate our anniversary and attend Lollapalooza. I believe the traditional gift for four years is Radiohead tickets, no?

Weighty matters

I took Little Miss Giant to her six-month pediatrician visit on Wednesday, where it was confirmed she was still indeed a giant -- 27.25 inches, which is greater than the 95th percentile. Get your 2028 WNBA tickets now!

But -- and you knew with this kid there had to be a but -- she's not gaining enough weight. She only weighed 13 pounds 11 ounces and her doctor said he would have liked to see her weigh 14.5 to even consider having her cry it out at night. The CIO no longer concerns me, since clearly she needs the calories, but the lack of weight-gain is kind of troubling.

At her four-month appointment, Emmie weighed 12 pounds 2 ounces, giving her a whopping gain of just over one-and-a-half pounds in two months. This, combined with her milk protein intolerance, got us a referral to a pediatric GI specialist. Our doctor said he's not concerned yet, but he wants to rule out any problems. He also wants to see her back in a month for a weight check.

At first, I pooh-poohed the issue. She's a totally happy baby, only cries when she's tired and is meeting her milestones at or ahead of time. She even waved at the doctor, which he said was advanced because it's a nine-month skill. Sure, she's the crappiest sleeper ever, but I am convinced her caloric intake goes to making herself taller, not making herself chubbier.

He also said they wouldn't worry unless her head stopped growing, and her head circumference stayed right on her curve in the 50th percentile.

Today, my degree from the Google School of Medicine starting kicking in. She wakes multiple times during the night. She eats frequently overnight, oh about six or seven times, but who's counting? She does crunches. She really likes sleeping in her swing. We hold her a lot. She has a milk protein intolerance. She's not gaining weight like she should.

Holy crap -- those are all symptoms of silent reflux. Suddenly the heavens parted and the light shone down upon me and I felt a moment of being one with the universe. I think Emmie has silent reflux. She very rarely spits up. She eats a lot, but spends a lot of time pulling off the breast. Combined with all of the above, it's pretty good match.

So this morning I called my pediatrician and reported my suspicions. When I presented my case to him, he said it did sound like it could be silent reflux. He prescribed her Zantac, twice a day and we'll see if it makes any difference. If it does, and she gains weight and starts sleeping better, awesome. If nothing changes, we've ruled it out and still have an appointment with the GI doctor.

Or, as Josh said the other day, maybe she's buying into the media messages and is trying to keep her slim figure via an eating disorder.

The sucking money pit that is my life

In a brilliant stroke of luck, all four of our tires needed to be replaced this week. While we were on vacation. Add this to the never-ending escalating costs of The Great Remodel of 2008 and you have two unhappy people.

However, work has resumed in our absence and things are moving apace. We no longer have the fear the house will fall down, as it has been shored up and the termite-crumbs that were the main sill beam are now brick.

I snuck home for two days yesterday with Emmie, leaving Jack at the lake with Grandma. Emily has her six-month doctor visit tomorrow so we came home a day early to inspect the progress on the house.

There was a great deal of banging and drilling and at one point, the water had to be shut off. I can report the fireplace and spot for the TV above it have been framed out and my built-in bookshelves should be framed tomorrow. The cable has been strung and all the speaker wires are in place. The insulation is finally going up on the walls and the staircase is fully framed out, waiting for the steps. There is not a single sheet of drywall left in the downstairs anymore either, as we elected to take the kitchen downstairs totally out and make it an office. Nothing like changing the scope of the project for the umpteenth time -- it's only money, right?

We had always planned to just put a door on the kitchen down there and leave it as-is, just in case we want to sell it as a two-family eventually or, God forbid, the economy goes so far in the shitter that Josh loses his job and we have to rent the place out again. But then we decided the kitchen was crappy anyway, and we would need to replace the cabinets and countertops to sell it or rent it. Since we have no office, we had them take it all out and re-drywall it.

I leave for the fine state of Wisconsin once again tomorrow, where I will continue my waterskiing escapades. I really should get some video of these attempts and post them for your enjoyment. I did get up on the first try and went about 50 feet upright on two skis before biting it ass over tea kettle when I tried to lean too far back. But showing that would require me revealing myself in my swimming suit and we don't want to scare any small children, so let's just not go there.

Cereal killer

With her six-month birthday behind us, I decided today it was probably time to get some solids into Emmie. So I busted out the baby spoons and the oatmeal and mixed a little breastmilk in and had Josh get the camera out.



Emmie was totally into it, grabbing the spoon and trying to see what exactly I was doing with this lumpy breastmilk. And then she realized it was breastmilk, but with shit in it. The look on her face was priceless -- she was like "Mmmmmm ... wait, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT MOM?"

But then she started grooving on it and while she got more on her than in her, it went quite well.



To be honest, I held off on solids as long as I did out of pure laziness. It's so much easier to whip out the boob wherever I am and not worry about bringing food or dishes or any of the various accoutrements of a gourmet baby meal. But I happened to have some oatmeal and some breastmilk in the fridge and I secretly hoped that cereal would help her sleep through the night, so I went for it today.

Guess what -- after taking a 4-ounce bottle of pumped milk before bed, she woke a whopping two hours later. And now she's awake again, an hour after that. So much for the theory that a full tummy makes them sleep better. Whoever started that old wive's tale is now my sworn enemy.

Emmie: Six months

Dear Emmie,

Today is your six-month birthday and you have officially been with us for an entire half year. I just can't believe how fast the time has gone. It feels like it was just days ago that we were bringing you home from the hospital and watching you sleep all the time.



The last month has been filled with new things for you. The biggest was when you learned to sit up by yourself. One day I sat you on the floor and balanced you and you sat for five then eight then 10 seconds. By the next day, you could sit for a minute and now we can give you a toy and set you in place and you can sit there content for a few minutes. You look so proud of yourself when you do it, too. Like "Look at me! I am a big girl!"

The sitting was followed shortly thereafter by the ability to grab your feet, which delighted you to no end. You've been doing crunches for the last two months and we finally figured out that you do them so you can see your feet. But then you figured out to bend your legs so you could access the feet and you were so pleased. And because you are a giant, you were also able to get your feet immediately into your mouth. Again, there was joy in Mudville.



When I say you are a giant, I am really not kidding. Your big doctor appointment is next week and I can't wait to see how long you are and how much you weigh. You are so long and skinny and your little face is just so petite. Your smile lights up the room and your dimples are so adorable I just want to eat your little face. Your biggest smiles are normally reserved for me and Daddy, but lately you have gotten a little shy around strangers and have been known to cry if an unknown person holds you, especially when you are in an unfamiliar environment.

Strangers can't help but say hello to you when we are out and about because of your hair. It is quite a conversation-starter with the three-inch blonde mane that stands straight up on the top. You look like a blonde baby Don King and it's so cute. Every night after your bath I comb it down and every morning when you wake up, there it is standing at attention once again. When it's wet and lying flat on your head you look like a totally different baby -- your face looks rounder and your cheeks look almost chubby.



You will get your first taste of solid food next week, after your doctor appointment. So far, you've been happy with the boob and everything is still going great with it. You eat every three hours and you really don't care if you get it from a bottle or straight from the source. As long as someone is feeding you, you are happy.

You're also a little rolling log these last few weeks. I put you down on your tummy and you roll immediately to your back, and then again to your front and before I know it, you're several feet from where I left you. But I never need to worry about losing you because your brother gives me a running commentary on everything you do now. "Emmie roll over! Emmie sit!"



Now that you can sit up and hold toys and interact more, Jack is much more interested in playing with you. He loves to bring you a toy and shove it into your hand for you to hold and he always tries to share his food with you. I have to remind him at every meal that you can't have any, but it is so nice of him to share. He is still hitting you here and there, but he spends more of his time loving you. Every morning when he wakes up, he asks "Emmie wake?" and if you happen to be awake and sitting in your bouncy seat in the bathroom when he comes in, he lays a huge unsolicited kiss on you. And every night before you go to bed he gives you a hug and a kiss and says, "Night night Emmie."

Most mornings, you wake up after him because you need to sleep in a little after being awake so many times during the night. We put you to bed between 6:30 and 7:30 every night and you usually give us a whopping three hours before you need to get up and eat again. Then you sleep for another three hours, when you want to eat. Again. Then you wake up about two hours later, which at this point is usually around 1-2 a.m. and I bring you into bed with me because I am too tired to keep getting up and feeding you. You eat a few more times while you are in bed with me before I finally put you in the swing around 6 a.m. for two hours. In total, I would say you are still waking about four times per night. It's killing me. But you're skinny so I haven't made you cry it out yet because I think you need the calories. Our big sleep breakthrough this month was transitioning you from your swing to the crib for all your naps, which you did quite well. One night you flipped onto your tummy and slept a little better and from then on, you became a tummy-sleeper. After you started that, you had no problem with the crib. I just give you a pacifier, rock you for about 10 seconds in my arms and put you down. You flip onto your stomach, sometimes fuss for a minute or two, and you're out like a light.

But even when you're not sleeping, which by extension means I'm not sleeping, I can't be upset with you because you are just so damn cute. You have started reaching out for me recently, which is such a great feeling. When I am holding you on my lap, you love to grab my face and pull it toward you and laugh. You are such a happy baby -- always up for anything we are doing, be it the park or a playgroup or just hanging out at home. When I get you up in the morning, you have a huge smile on your face and you kick your legs and make this hilarious gurgling noise deep in your throat. Then you bury your face in my neck as I smother you with kisses. I call you my Sweetie Emmie because you are just such a sweet, likeable little girl. I know you won't always be easy to like (hello, teenage hormones) but always remember that your Daddy and I love you very much.



My love for you has taken my breath away at times in the last six months. There are nights where I check on you at night and watch you sleep and I see your whole life spread out before you. I want such great things for you -- friendship, love, happiness -- and I know you will achieve big things. I can't wait to watch you grow into a strong, independent, educated woman. You have some great female role models in your life in your grandmothers and aunts, and of course me, so I hope you can learn from us. I certainly learn from you every day and just when I think I couldn't love you more, I do.

Love,
Mommy

Cheese, bratwurst and mosquitoes await

We're taking off for a couple of weeks of family vacation in beautiful Wisconsin, beginning this weekend. While my house is reconstructed, I will be dousing myself with citronella bug spray and stuffing myself silly with s'mores and learning how to water ski.

I plan to blog here and there, but not on an everyday schedule. Unless I feel like it. Because spending that much quality time with our families might drive me to hide in the closet and type quietly of my angst so I don't lose my damn mind. I say that in the most loving manner possible, of course.

Enjoy the rest of your July, kids.

My kid is Don King

Seriously, her hair is taking on a life of its own. It's about three inches long and stands STRAIGHT up on the top. People stop me on the street to comment how cute it is.


I did not stick my finger in a socket.

That's Ms. to you

Let me share with you one of the things that irks the living shit out of me: being addressed as Mrs. Joshua S.

My sister-in-law is getting ready to send her wedding invitations out and I told her if mine comes addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Joshua S then I am not coming to the wedding. Nevermind the fact that I am IN the wedding, small detail.

I know it's proper etiquette and all that blah blah crap, but for me, it boils down to the fact that it's as if I ceased to exist as my own person with my own name when I got married.

This is the exact reason I should have kept my name. No one could have formally addressed me as Mrs. Joshua anything because I would have stayed Ms. Amy S. Period. End of envelope.

Does anyone else out there get as annoyed by this as me? Or am I just weird?

Sit, Emmie, sit

Of course I can't catch it on camera without letting her fall over and bonk her head on the hardwood, but Emmie can sit unassisted for several seconds now.

Yesterday she surpassed her own personal best of eight seconds by sitting for a whopping 10 seconds. She was even able to bend over forward at the waist and then right herself again.

Of course she might have been able to sit up three weeks ago for all I know, but I never had her try.

The difference between the first and second child is the first gets undivided attention and you have all day to amuse him and work with him on things. The second child? Well she gets held all the time because it's easier to deflect wayward flailing feet and incoming toy missles. The only reason I even tried to see if she could do it is because I read in my archives that Jack was able to do it at this age.

I keep saying that once Emmie can sit up, it'll be so much better. She'll be able to amuse herself and play with toys and have a better view of her brother. I don't particularly want her to crawl or walk -- too much work for me to chase her and don't even get me started on the battles that will be fought over the Diego car and the Legos.

So for now, I am content to see her teetering like a sorority girl throwing back her fourth wine cooler.

Missing: One pair underpants

While I was getting Emmie up from her nap this morning, Jack went pee in the potty all by himself. Awesome!

When I came downstairs, he was naked from the waist down. I saw his shorts in front of the couch and asked him where his big-boy underpants were. He laughed. I started nursing Emmie and had a one-sided 10-minute conversation about where the underpants were.

Twelve hours later, I still haven't found them. I looked everywhere. I really hope for everyone's sake that he didn't flush them.

Flip flop

We officially have a stomach-sleeper at 5.5 months.

For the last two nights, Emmie has flipped herself onto her stomach and slept like that for several hours. I know all the blah blah about "back to sleep" but once the kid can turn herself over, all bets are off.

The first time I discovered her sleeping with her face in the crib mattress, I about had a heart attack. But then I looked closely and noticed her face was actually turned to the side and she had a clear airway. So I left her alone, smugly thinking this would be the magic bullet for sleeping through the night.

Of course she made a fool out of me when she woke up two hours later. And two hours after that. And two hours after that. I waved the white flag and brought her in my bed around 2 a.m. and stopped counting how many times she woke me up.

What I haven't stopped counting is the number of times Jack has accidents with the potty training. I am proud to report he didn't have any accidents at all yesterday and had a small one today where he actually realized he was peeing, stopped himself and went into the bathroom to finish -- all on his own. He's even emptying his own potty insert into the big toilet. This Mommy gig is looking up!

I am now only asking him if he has to go once an hour and he is telling me or just going on his own a couple times a day. I know we're by no means done, but I am feeling pretty good about his progress considering he's 2 years 4 months.

Next on the agenda is teaching him how to make the perfect margarita.

I embarrass him already

Last night, Jack was watching an Elmo video when I put Emmie to bed (shut up, yes my older kid watches videos while I put my younger kid to bed, report me to Child Protective Services). When I came dowstairs, I started singing along to one of the songs.

"No sing Mommy! NO SING!" complete with the talk-to-the-hand manuever and a loud voice.

Apparently he doesn't want me ruining his Elmo vocals with my version.