The Canine Burrow of Infiltration

Marti has always liked to be in the middle of the action. Pre-Avery, when I was working full-time from home, there were days she would drive me to my wit's end because she would sit next to me and scratch me any time she was not the center of my attention. Which was often, because I was working. So, we're talking entire workdays of scratching.

I was never worried about how Marti would react to the baby. But I did wonder how she would do when she wasn't the center of attention any more. Because the scratching? I couldn't deal with every time my attention was diverted to the baby.

The only problem we've had since Avery was born, really, has been that she so desperately wants to be with her humans that it borders on ridiculous. And being close isn't enough. Must be ontopofyoualwaysandforever.

For instance, I was in the kitchen recently, and Avery was in her bouncer in the living room. I heard an "Eeep! Eeep!" from Avery. So I sprinted to the living room. Lo and behold, Marti is IN THE BOUNCER with Avery. Marti was sitting there like, "What's up? Why is she 'eeping'?" And Little Miss Aves is like, "Something is amiss! A dog is on my legs! A dog is on my legs!"

Did a sharp scolding keep her out of the bouncer for good? No. But at least there is no baby this time.



Marti has this amazing talent of finding the most comfortable spot in the house. We come home to find her on the back of couch cushions or in our bed. Never on the floor. No way. Here she used the Boppy to build a Fort of Cozy.



If there are humans to snuggle with though? Even better. Baby pits? Best.



And if I'm wearing a robe? Well, Marti considers it a custom, closer-to-mom blanket for herself.



As much as Marti loves me, I think Aves is her new favorite person. She babysits. For free.



She tries to sneak in smooches.



She brings offerings. This ball was brand-new and she was willing to share.



Nothing will deter Marti from getting involved. There's no room? She'll squeeze in. Breastfeeding? Avery makes a perfect chair!



For Marti, adding Avery to the family just means one more person to love.

Just Add Milk

Now with more pounds and a lot more attitude!


Miss Avery Anne is four months old today. Looking at her today, I barely recognize her as the tiny little girl we met in August. I'm pretty sure she's close to tripling her birth weight at this point, so I'm interested to see what her measurements are at the doctor next week. She is large and oh so in charge.

Those luxurious locks have grown thinner, even though she still has quite a bit of hair. Just look at what she was born with!

Today, her hair may be thinner, but she's filled out everywhere else! She's got the cutest chubby little cheeks and thighs you just want to munch on. I can't believe how much she's grown. The kid on her package of diapers is walking, for crying out loud.

Speaking of crying out loud, she has found her attitude. She is usually a very happy baby, but she knows that a loud holler gets results in a hurry. And that loud holler is more of a horror-movie scream. I have visions of that scream happening in grocery stores. In which case I'm pretty sure I'd do anything to make it stop. Want a live lobster? It's yours! She'll go from zero to 60 in a few seconds flat. Here is one of her fits during our photo session:

But she's also found her smile and her laughter, so we have a lot of fun getting her to grin and giggle.


She still hates the pacifier (Marti still loves them. Six destroyed now.), but she's learned that she's got these hands, and hands have thumbs. She doesn't suck, she just noms on them and drools like crazy. Yum yum!

She also rolled over during tummy time the other day. She did it in September when she was super pissed, but this time it wasn't a fluke. Here she enjoys some tummy time with daddy!

Other milestones include lifting her legs up into the air and slamming them down with ferocity, and bringing her rattles and teething rings straight to the mouth. Or I should say, bringing them in the general direction of her mouth. It's a source of endless entertainment for me.



And if I see you at Christmas, don't even ask if she's sleeping through the night. She's not. Not even close. I will volunteer that information when we at least step in the right direction. Until then, I will share pictures like this where you can't quite see the dark circles under my eyes.

Clearing Out the Inbox

My email inbox has been out of control since August 7. I gave birth to a little cutie pie, spent almost a week at the hospital and away from the computer, and it's been tough to recover. Even though I see new emails on my BlackBerry, I don't always have two free thumbs to respond. So the email continues to pile up. It's like one step forward when I delete an email and one step back when it's replaced by a new one.

I've finally gotten it down to 17 new emails, and in going through the inbox, came across this one, dated July 30, 2010.

An email to Nikki and Erika, responding to the question "How are you feeling?"

So yeah, 34 weeks today. I'm up every hour or so at night either maneuvering into a different sleep position (with a Snoogle that I won. It's awesome.) or peeing. Our house is still chaos...Alan's planning to tile the kitchen floor...stresses me out but I'm trying to be zen about it. My maternity pants don't even really fit any more, so that's very annoying. And tight. So I'm rotating like three dresses and a skirt. YAWN. My feet also started to swell towards the end of the day and for some reason that is very depressing--like you need a further reminder that you have no control over your body any more. Oh, and Bethenny Getting Married had her baby at 35 weeks so now I'm freaking out that I'm so not ready if the baby makes an early appearance. Not likely, I know, but I can't be rationalized with. I'm also sick of being the clumsiest human alive and banging my shins or breaking dishes every other minute. See the can of worms you open up when you ask how I am?

Oh, Erin of July 30. You should be freaking out. Very much indeed.

The Boss

She says "milk," and I say, "How much?" I couldn't have a cuter boss.

Juggling

Fact: You can't fully appreciate your parents until you have kids of your own. Then you see both how much they've loved you all this time and how much work they've done to take care of you. Love is a wonderful thing, and it's not only enough to make the work worthwhile, but it also makes you crazy enough to want to do it again. At some point.

Now that Avery is three months old, I can't help but think that many moms would be back to work about now. Can I just say, I have no idea how they do it. We're still up at least a couple of times during the night, and while there is almost no crying now and I haven't had to turn on the infomercials in more than a month, there is still enough exhaustion that I've fallen asleep in the glider. For an hour or more. Granted, I do work, but thankfully I can do my writing and editing when it's convenient for me, at home. I've never been afraid to work hard (Ken Berry at 10! Child labor, anyone?), but taking care of an infant full time is by far the toughest job I've ever had. Babies might sleep for 14 hours a day, but Avery sleeps 10 minutes here and an hour there...and so far, not predictably. I'm also busy trying to keep us from getting buried alive by laundry. And making dinner, which I'm proud to report I'm doing regularly again, finally. And, on occasion, showering, which I've done with one leg out of the shower to keep bouncing Avery in her bouncer.

So sometimes I can't respond to emails. Or voice mails. Sometimes I get interrupted putting on shoes. I've been wearing only one shoe for about an hour now.


Also keeping me busy? Leaves. Fall out here is absolutely gorgeous. So beautiful that it almost makes up for some of the New Jersey nastiness. Here is the view from our front porch on Sunday, midway through raking our front yard.

This was today, after a storm blew threw last night. I had to laugh at the few remaining leaves struggling to hang on to the tree.

And because I know you people don't visit to get a leaf report: Avery is now babbling at us like crazy, and we've also started earning huge gummy grins regularly. Sometimes she looks at us like we're being doofuses, but sometimes those doofuses are funny! Unfortunately, she knows when I'm trying to capture giggles and grins, and she wants to have the upper hand and so refuses to give me what I want. So smart already.

Have a Gourd Halloween!

Although I had several good ideas for Avery's Halloween costume this year, I really wanted to coordinate her costume with Marti's. I originally bought Marti a pirate costume, and surprisingly found one for Avery as well, but decided that a pirate was maybe a little too hardcore for Baby's First Halloween.

So I decided to go with the quintessential Halloween costume for both girls: The jack-o'-lantern.


Marti, patient as always.


Avery, not as patient.



Avery mounts her trusty Marti steed.


Marti: I gonna kill you in your sleep.


Our little pumpkin patch.


Patience runs thin.



Happy Halloween, everyone!

For past Halloween fun:
Marti the Moose
Marti the Bee
Marti the Rooster

So Many Possibilities

With Halloween just days away, we're exploring costume ideas. Although Avery's hair isn't as plentiful as it was when she was born (or maybe her head's just bigger), it still gives us a lot of options.

Mad Scientist/One Who Stuck Her Finger in a Light Socket



Punk Rocker with a Mohawk



Justin Timberlake



Old Man/Super Sleek Posh Spice


Donald Trump


Kate Gosselin


Avery slept through our entire photo session. But Marti didn't, and she was ready to take over the comfy photo spot after we were done. I think she wanted to remind me not to forget about her Halloween costume this year. Don't worry, Marti. I won't.

The Baby Ate My Brain

I read that during pregnancy, your brain cells actually shrink. They're reportedly supposed to plump back up a few months after delivery. Mine apparently are taking their time with the plumping. So while my pregnancy-induced clumsiness has improved immensely, I'm sometimes a raging moron. Add the non-plumped-back-up brain cells to a lack of sleep and I am what you get. A few highlights.

Example 1. I mailed a check with one amount in numerals and another amount written out. The written part of the check is the legal part (who knew?), so I had to write a separate check to finish the transaction.

Example 2. I mailed our trash bill without a check at all. They returned it and kindly asked for their money.

Example 3. Jenn and I were going back and forth via email. We're always making acronyms and explaining them, thus not actually saving any time at all until they catch on. One of our favorites is SLAP for "Sounds like a plan!" The other day I created a clever new one, EARTO, which was supposed to mean "Edited and ready to go!" Except for the whole part where I substituted an O for what should have been a G.

So these are the minor goofs I've been doing on a daily basis. But this one takes the cake:

Alan came down to the living room after changing out of a sour-milky spit-up shirt to join me on the couch.

"Where's the baby?" I asked.

Cue Alan's blank stare. "The baby?" he said.

"WHERE IS AVERY?"

Alan looks at me like the moron that I am. I look down. Oh yeah. She's on my lap. Eating. From my breast.

Seriously. The baby ate my brain.

But isn't she cute as the freaking dickens?

That Was Fast

It's hard to believe that five years ago, I was in a pretty dress, in a pretty chapel, about to get married. How is it possible that it's been five years? And how is it possible that it's been so easy?






I won't embarrass Alan by getting too sentimental here, but I just want to say that I'm a lucky girl. I've had a great five years and look forward to 60 more.

And an update on the little girl. She had her two-month appointment today. She's shot from the 10th percentile for her birth weight to the 75th, weighing in at 11 pounds, 7 ounces! She took her shots like a champ. And she's super cute, adorable, hilarious. Obvs!

Learning Curve

I like to think I have a brain cell or two floating around in my head. But Avery has proven that this may not be the case as she puts me through my first semester of Parenting School. My test this week in my Bodily Fluids 101 class is entitled "Be Prepared, Fool." And I failed miserably.

So for the first month of Avery's life, there was little to no spit up. She'd give a good burp after eating, but she'd happily keep all of her food down. But then to keep us on our toes, she decided to start spitting up. Of course, it's taken me awhile to adjust to this new phenomenon, so remembering to have a burp cloth on hand has proven difficult for my pea-sized brain. Alan has grown used to my urgent calls to "Get me something!" to clean up the mess. The other night when she spit up while I was holding her, he preemptively jumped up to come to my rescue.

I told him not to bother because she'd spit up straight down my shirt.

So we headed upstairs to clean up. She needed a bath anyway and I now needed a shower. So I take her diaper off and gamble on getting to the bathroom with her butt bare.

Remind me not to go to Las Vegas.

We get to the bathroom and it must have been the running water, because the little girl could hold it no longer. She had to go...and peed right on my hip and down my leg. What's another pair of jeans in the wash at this point?

So to make her trifecta complete, we wake up after a snuggle the next morning to her having blown through her pajamas and her blanket to get poop on our sheets. Add sheets and our mattress cover to the wash.

Little did I know that she was preparing me for the coup de grace, what I shall call Poop-o-Mania 2010.

We're in the glider, she's chowing down. I don't know if I heard it first, felt it or just had a weird sense, but all of a sudden I knew there was poop everywhere. I knocked Marti off my lap, stood up and well, Poop-o-Mania 2010 had commenced. There was poop on my shirt. Poop on my jeans. Poop through to my underwear. Poop on the glider cushions. Poop on the carpet.

The most impressive part? It's like she had direct aim. How it made it through her clothes (she was fully clothed at the time, long pants and everything) through the cushions and out the back of the glider and still had this sort of distance...well, that's talent.


I've also yet to learn that during diaper changes the girl will pee almost every time she feels the open air. I'm keeping Pampers in business wasting diapers. Also Dreft, washing clothes and changing table covers.

Don't let her innocent, sleeping face fool you. She's about to poop on me.*


*As I edit this I just got my first real smile. I will deal with mountains of poop for that.

Note: The moment I hit "Publish" she spit up on my sleeve. She's already cultivating a comedic sense of timing.

The Wee Hours

Sleep deprivation has taken on a whole new meaning. Avery woke me up last night after a couple of hours of sleep and we partied until dawn. Later than dawn, actually. She ate, peed, cried a little, and ate a little more from about 3:30 to 7 this morning.

In my sleep-deprived state I considered ordering a Magic Bullet. That infomercial just makes it look so appealing. But I finally had to turn off the television when the infomercial for a "man problem" pump came on at 6. Too much information for tiny ears.

But we prevailed. Avery finally conked out. And we got a few hours of sleep. I'm still exhausted, but this little grunter makes it all worth it. If you can stomach the baby talk until the end, Marti makes a grand appearance.

Happy Birthday, Martikins!

Little Marti is 5 years old today.* I think this means that I can no longer blame bad behavior on her youth.

As bad as she can be sometimes, she makes up for it by having the biggest heart and the most love for her humans as pugly possible. As I write this, she sits on my lap, resting her head on my arm. Yes, it makes typing take twice as long, but I can't bear to make her move.


We may have a new member of the family, but Marti says the more the merrier. And Marti will squirrel her way into any situation. No really—any situation. This is my view when I'm feeding Avery.

We took advantage of the beautiful weather today and went for a walk. I've got my hands full. Especially when I have to pick up poo.


Here she is, hitting the books. I hope one of these covers pug obedience.


Self Portrait: The Pug and Baby Wrangler.


*I had joked that if Avery went past her due date, she and Marti could share a birthday. As it is, they don't even share a birth month.

One Month Later

It's been a month since Avery arrived and we're adjusting to life with the little girl. Kitchen floors have been completed, appliances are now installed, and we're able to live a little more like humans. As human as one can be without sleep, anyway.

I won't say that I can't remember what life was like before Avery. Because I do. Lots more sleep. A lot more relaxation (although I didn't know it then). Quicker trips outside of the house. But life since her arrival? Lots more bodily fluids. Lots more laundry. Lots more laughs. And a lot more love. How can your heart not just explode when you look at this face?

The bodily fluids? Boy, you better watch out. Projectile poo can shoot crazy distances. And the girl has a penchant for what I call "free peeing," her preference for peeing as soon as the diaper comes off. This necessitates many an outfit change and many loads washing her changing table pad covers. I never knew that such a little person could create so much dirty laundry.

Avery also has a thing for making funny faces. We are going to have the ammo for a lengthy blooper reel someday. Take this cross-eyed glare, for example.

For the first two weeks of her life, Avery hardly made a peep. I don't think she officially cried until well past the 2.5-week mark. But she finally found her voice. And sometimes I think she's trying to reach Child Protective Services without picking up the phone.

Luckily, she's easily comforted. While she sometimes lets out a random, quick blood-curdling scream before passing back out a split second later, usually her cries are easily figured out. A diaper change, a meal or a warm snuggle is all it takes to make her happy. Or some daddy/daughter time.


Avery also makes friends easily. Like her bosom buddy, Minnie Mouse.


And Marti.


The Marti adjustment has been fun to watch. I knew Marti would be great with the new addition, and I was right. She seems to know that Avery is very important, and while Marti would like a little bit more attention, she takes being a big sister very seriously. The pug has always greeted visitors with a stuffed animal in her mouth. When Alan comes home, she frantically looks around for a stuffed toy to show off. Now, when Avery makes any sort of peep, Marti looks around for a stuffed animal and takes it to her. It's pretty adorable. Just wait until Marti discovers that Avery drops Cheerios and other yummy foodstuffs.