Tricky kid eludes decoding

It seems like it should be so simple: feed the baby, burp the baby, change the baby's diapers, and enjoy the happy baby.

Ha! Ha ha ha ha!

It's trickier than I'd have thought (but many people could have told me) to achieve the trifecta of fed-gasless-and-dry. We spend so many hours cycling through the basics chasing synchronicity. And then collapse in exhaustion on the never-made bed. (McPie says the bed is no longer simply a bed; it has become a habitat.)

And then there's the barely decipherable shriek of Mama-you're-not-loving-me-enough! Cuddle me MORE! Which is actually code for I need Dad.

I may have the liquid gold that gets him through the day, but Dad? He's the baby whisperer.

* Note the DIY diaper cover in the photo! Wool soaker fits like a glove and works like a charm. Here's a closer look (aka: excuse to add another photo of cute baby.)

On losing the "baby weight"

I'm itching to get to the gym again, partly because I feel very hale and hearty (hardy?) (but dont' worry, I'm not going to overdo anything, and probably won't get in a workout for weeks anyway), but mainly because I want to weigh myself. I don't have a scale here, and always used the gym scale to track my weight gain through pregnancy. (About 30 pounds, for the record.) I'm extremely curious about how much weight I've lost -- through delivery, and over the past 1. 5 weeks.

I've been for a couple of walks with Timothy in the buggy (to the grocery store today!), and it's AWESOME to be able to walk at whatever pace I want without waddling, without backache, without wanting to lie down on the curb and have a nap. I feel light as a feather!

My post-baby belly has a fascinating squishy texture which I'm slightly obsessed with. But it's shrinking daily -- McPie and I snapped a picture last night (or the night before?) in order to capture it before it was gone completely.

They say that breastfeeding moms shed the "baby weight" really quickly, because you really do need to eat for two, what with manufacturing the entire diet for another whole person. In my opinion and now experience, breastfeeding women probably lose the babyweight quickly because when the f--- are we supposed EAT? Baby's needs are so very pressing: "Food: NOW". "Crappy diaper: NOW PLEASE!" "Food food food!!!! NOW NOW NOW!!!"

They really don't take "excuse me for a moment, I need to shove a peanut butter spoon in my mouth so I don't die" very well. Tim and I are working on that bit of etiquette.

So anyway, I managed to finally get Timothy strapped into the moby and settled for lunch by 2:30 today, at which point I made and inhaled an avocado sandwich... accompanied by a glass of wine because oh my god do I ever deserve it.

Cheers!

Yes, I have bad hair, but it's CLEAN bad hair. Best I could manage -- a shower, if not a blow-dry. Also, I dressed Timothy in an over-the-head number today... and it wasn't that hard. So our wardrobe possibilities have opened up considerably.

Starting fresh, with a spring-like aroma

If I keep thinking I'm going to write a big update post with all the big news in it, I'll never ever write on this blog again!

So I'll start with today, and catch up if I can.

The turning point: Timothy Davis*, born on April 6 -- eight days ago. Today, I left the house for the first time since then. I drove my mom to the airport, leaving Timothy at home with Sweetie McPie. I returned just in time to join him, Constance and the baby on their first walk. We walked over to the school to pick up Ben. (Constance had been home in the afternoon, not feeling well.) It's the first beautiful spring day since Timothy's birth, and the week looks like it will entice me out each day for the rest of the week.

Also, it seems that a buggy-ride might be just the thing for a fussy baby. Not that T's particularly fussy. Just, I've been reticent about taking him out and getting in over my head away from home. Turns out, I likely needn't worry, and in fact may come to depend on the stroller! He was a bit fussy before the walk, but conked out completely the moment the rubber hit the road. And has been fast asleep in the bassinet (detachable from the carriage), ever since (about 40 minutes now).

Also! I put on non-maternity, non-stretchy pants today. (Not my favourite jeans yet, but soon!)AND, I am enjoying a late afternoon cocktail (vodka and soda, to be precise). The old Hedda's back!

Okay, not really. I'll never be the same again. Our family will never be the same again. It's bigger and better! And more edible. (It's true: I cannot help nibbling my son. He's absolutely delectable. Especially his cheeks.

Here is Timothy, eight days old:



* Our son is named after his maternal and paternal grandfathers, respectively. In fact, all the boys in the latest generations of MacLeans (Timothy, Ben, and their cousin Andrew), bear the middle name "Davis". We love the name, but we also enjoy a little legacy.

In case she needed proof of my reasoning

We don't have screens on all our windows. Constance's bedroom window opens onto the front porch. When we knocked on her door to get her to come to dinner tonight, she arrived via the front door, having exited the house through her window. Excited by the summery weather, I suppose.

I do not approve of this practice, and let her know that entering or exiting the house via bedroom windows is not appropriate, for various reasons including (but not limited to) the fact that the windows get left open by forgetful children, which then leads to insect infestations and/or neighbourhood cats sleeping finding their way into the bedroom of allergic younger brothers. Constance kind of rolled her eyes, and kind of agreed to not do it again.

Two hours later, we let a black cat, and then an orange cat, out of the house.