The Pregnant Waddle

Pre-Pregnancy Weight Just Around the Corner (It's Trying to Run and Hide)

Friday, September 30, 2005

Darth Maul

Some kidlets develop a passion for a special stuffed animal or blankie. My child loves her burp cloth. She clutches it to her with smiles and coos. She likes having it to hold. Most adorable, however, are the times when she lunges at it with open mouth, crams it between her jaws and mauls it ferociously, curling her body into a plump ball around her prey. This performance is always accompanied by squawks.

I’d be tempted to try and turn her affections to a blankie that is not generally covered with her own—let’s be frank—vomit. However, the burp cloth option does have a certain advantage: we use cloth diapers for the purpose, and I’ve got about 25 of them and they all look alike. Which means we’ll never have a little girl crying beside the washing machine.

Ngaire’s affections also lean the way of our sofa’s fabric, which is blue and dotted with things that might possibly be flowers, or maybe sugar cookies with jam in the center. It’s hard to tell. Anyway, she will sit and stare at this fabric for minutes on end, and squawk and giggle and flirt with it, glancing away with a coy little aw-shucks moue. She intersperses this with more of the open-mouthed lunging. The relationship is a rocky one, though; after trying to pick the flowers, or possibly suck the nipples (it’s hard to tell), for a while, Ngaire tends to get frustrated with her lack of success, and her happy gurgles turn to “eh’s” of dismay. But she displays an admirable ability to forgive and forget, always greeting the return of the sofa on another occasion with her former delight.

Diamonds are a girl’s best friend

My fingers are shrinking, but I can’t quite get my wedding and engagement rings on again just yet. (I check every few days.) Today, it occurred to me that Ngaire might like to have a look at my rings—she like shiny things—so I put her on my lap and held the box in front of her while I read my email. I thought to myself, “You know, she probably can’t grab them, but as soon as I think that, she probably will.”

She did, in an impressive swipe. Fortunately, she gripped rather than flinging (as I did as an infant to my father’s wedding ring).

I foresee a lot of bling in this girl’s life.

And another thing

Ngaire signals that she’s hungry by opening her mouth at me like a little bird, and making a “kack” noise. Our morning routine usually involves me nursing her while reading email and blogs on my laptop. Ngaire’s got the routine down. She starts making excited “kacks” as soon as she sees me setting up my computer.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

He loves me, I know he does

He brought me Dunkin Donuts in bed this morning.

Um

Wal-Mart checkout person (who also happens to be our across-the-street neighbor): “Were you thinking of selling your house?”

Me: “No, not really.”

Her: “Because if you were, my husband thought we might buy it and use it as a storage unit.”

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

I love this thought

"To be happy and content, I think one must first have faith and second be able to amuse oneself."

Ngaire’s new trick

The other day I was standing Ngaire up on my lap, and it dawned on me that every time I stood her up, she would open up her mouth in a huge smile. Then I realized that every time I stand her up, I open up my mouth in a huge smile and gasp with amazement at the utter wonderfulness of her achievement. So I’ve programmed her to open her mouth really big when she stands. I even experimented with this by standing her up on my chest, holding her above my head, and sure enough, when she heard my gasp, she gave that huge grin.

Since then, I’ve barely left the poor child alone. It’s the cutest thing to see a slightly fussy or tired baby trying halfheartedly to grin so her crazy mommy will stop making her stand up already. It’s positively Pavlovian. Though which one of us has been trained? That is the question.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

These hands were made for swaddlin’

In our ongoing quest for The Perfect Swaddle, it turns out that a proper-sized blankie is key.

Ngaire is eight weeks and three days old, and growing at an alarming rate. Without exact figures, the Husbandlet weighs about 14 pounds more, standing on the bathroom scale, when he is holding her, and when stretched out next to a yardstick, she covers about 24 inches. She definitely doesn’t get this from my side of the family. I weighed eight and a half pounds when I was two months old! Any baby taking after me would have to be scrawny!

As for my weight now … well, let’s just say that when I stand on the scale, I keep looking for more things to take off.

My nightly crunches are paying off, though, in the sense that now when I try to slither off the bed after nursing Ngaire to sleep, I can actually sit up instead of hauling myself up gripping the crib (so far the crib’s only major use), or deliberately falling out of bed. I’ve actually done the latter. Stop laughing.

Perhaps because she has spent so much of her short life lying on a bed next to it, Ngaire has developed a fascination with my laptop. She stares at the screen with so much intensity that sometimes she forgets to fall asleep. She can now follow objects with her eyes, and I think she must like the scrolling sentence on my screensaver.

I finally caved and started re-organizing the baby clothes. Oh. My. Goodness. SO many clothes! We’ve had tons of garments passed on to us, so in re-organizing I put together a bag of boy and generic clothes for Sarah, who is having a boy … um, yeah, that was redundant … and a bag of overflow-can’t-possibly-fit-another-pink-outfit-into-the-drawer clothes for the thrift store. Ngaire will be well dressed THROUGH AGE THREE on the clothes I kept alone. It was a huge project. Between that, folding laundry, and washing dishes, I’m exhausted.

Paradigm shift

Today, I picked my child’s nose. And it wasn’t the first time.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Flip-flops

Yesterday, Ngaire and I played a game. I would put her on her tummy and then leave the room, and she would flip over onto her back. We did this four or five times, with Ngaire picking up speed in her turnovers with each attempt--on the last flip, I looked back as I was leaving the room and she was already on her back. Eventually, though, she tired of the game and stayed on her stomach, emitting increasingly insistent "ehs" until I picked her up. Too bad--I was still quite entertained by the whole thing.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Ngairita Burrito

The Husbandlet is a master swaddler, it turns out. Who knew? When I swaddle the Squid, all her arms and legs emerge from the blankie and start flailing around. At best, I can immobilize her legs with the swaddle, flip her on her side, tuck her feet into my lap, hold her arms (see above re: flailing), and prop the pacifier in her mouth with my third hand. Then, after a piece, there is usually happiness (or at least resignation) and sleep.

But when The Husbandlet swaddles Ngaire—oh, then is there swaddlage indeed. Her little feet stay neatly folded, her little arms stick down by her sides as if glued, her little face peeks out from the folds of cloth in the manner of explorers to the frozen North.

In her swaddled state, Ngaire resembles nothing so much as a large pink burrito. It makes me hungry. The salsa—bring it!

*We pause to bring you a Moment of Cuteness: Ngaire just woke up from a nap beside me and there was Angst and Dismay. I fed her and there was Quiet and Thoughtfulness. I wrapped her in a blanket and jiggled her on my knees and there was Semi-Hypnotized Eye-Drooping. Then I settled her snuggled against my thigh—I am sitting on my bed typing on my laptop—and she turned on her side, folded her hands under her chin, sighed, and fell asleep.*

Back to our regular programming.

Ngaire was seven weeks old on Monday, and it is just incredible how much she has developed in that time. She is increasingly alert, and has recently begun to focus on—and even try to reach for—objects like my mom’s purse strap or my mother-in-law’s watch. If someone else is holding her and she hears my voice, she will turn to look for me or even start to cry. She has been known to ROLL OVER ONTO HER PACIFIER to retrieve it when it falls out of her mouth (it’ll be more efficient but less entertaining when she learns to simply pick it up and put it back in her mouth). Child has outgrown some brands of size 1 diapers, for cryin’ out loud!

This weekend, we visited an assemblage of relatives and long-term-friends-honorary-relatives-people-from-both-families-finally-got-married-
so-now-it’s-official folk. Ngaire not only got to meet her Auntie Godmother (my brother-in-law’s mother-in-law, who meets the above convoluted/hyphenated description, which has led to some confusion when her son-in-law calls her “Aunt Denise” in front of the uninitiated) but her Africa grandmother as well. Many pictures of Ngaire were taken. Limbs of people other than Ngaire may or may not appear in the pictures. The first-born grandchild: it’s a hard life, but somebody’s got to live it.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Backed like a weasel

Kudos, bonus points, and cookies to all of you--"Very like a whale" is from both Hamlet (speaker: Polonius) and Moby Dick (amongst the quotes assembled at the beginning of the book).

Thought of the day: I will never, never again drink two cups of coffee while breastfeeding. My exceptional sleeper has taken nothing but much-coaxed catnaps all day.

Quote of the day:
Husbandlet to me (who else?): "You are very voluptuous. So many volups!"

Woe of the day: Ngaire is beginning to lose the cute little dark fuzz growing on her ears.

Excitement of the day: Congratulations to Jenny, Adam, and Doodles! Welcome, Sweetie Pie!