from the “Dear Emerson” letter dated 11/10/09

THE WEEK OF GRUMP

So for the past week and a half or so our house has been invaded by the SICKY ICK. Perhaps invaded is too strong a word, but your Daddy was very sick with the sicky ick. It turned out that the sicky ick was a nasty case of bronchitis and not the piggy ick (swine flu) that everyone has been all freaked out about this season. So that was the good news. The bad news (for me) was that as he was coming down with is sicky ick, we were a little afraid that it was the flu, so he tried as hard as he could to avoid infecting you – which meant that for about a week or so, I had to juggle A LOT of solo baby wrangling, plus a very sick and unhappy husband. SOLO BABY WRANGLING OF A TEETHING GRUMPY BABY! Needless to say, the house on Sugar Tree was not the happiest place to be last week. There was a definite dearth of flowers and sunshine. There were no chirping little birds singing sweetly or rainbows across our front lawn. It was the week of GRUMP.

On one particular day, you and I were having our daily “battle of the nap.” Lately, I have been pretty successful at getting you to take a really good morning nap (1-2 hours); although, it still necessitates that I sleep with you. My theory has been that if I get you acclimated to the timing of the nap, then I can eventually wean you off of having to be directly next to my body in order to take said nap. So on this particular day in the week of GRUMP, I had successfully gotten you to sleep, and I decided that I was going to try to sneak away, and do something ridiculous and indulgent – like drink tequila shots and dance on the kitchen table – or take a shower. But before I had the chance, GUESS WHAT?!? You woke up. Nap time logged – 20 minutes.

So I went back into your room and thought to myself, “She really is SO tired. Maybe she will sleep some more.” So I nursed you a bit, but you just wouldn’t doze off….but you looked SO sleepy. So I thought to myself, “Maybe I will try to just put her in her crib and see what happens. Maybe the sleep training books are right. Maybe she will fuss a bit and then just fall asleep. She really is SO tired.” So I put you in your crib, kissed you, told you nighty night, quietly left your room, and waited.

At first you babbled to yourself. I waited. You fussed and whined. I waited.  Then you cried. Still, I waited. You fussed & cried for maybe 3-5 minutes. Then you SCREAMED. Full on, no holding back – SCREAMING LIKE YOUR FINGERNAILS WERE BEING TORN OFF BY A PACK OF RABID WOLVERINES. Here and now, I admit – I confess – I could only take the SCREAMING for a few minutes. Less than five. Probably like three. I just can’t handle the SCREAMING. It is so tragic, so agonizing. Whatever the reason, you were clearly BESIDE YOURSELF. I went in and got you. And here is where the story gets CRAZY because you were SO upset that you threw a full on screaming tantrum for AN HOUR. It took me an entire HOUR to get you calmed down – after which, you fell asleep. And I thought to myself, “She must be SO exhausted from that FULL HOUR OF SCREAMING that she will crash out for at least an hour or two.” GUESS WHAT?!?! You woke up. Nap time logged – 20 minutes (40 minutes total)

The crazy thing about the screaming tantrum is that you NEVER do that, at least not when your Dad or I are there. You will fuss, whine, and even cry a bit, but NEVER that full on inconsolable hysterical screaming crying.

When you woke up from your second little cat nap I went back into your room to get you and I noticed this:

In the three minutes that I had left you in your crib furiously crying, you had managed to EAT YOUR CRIB. I just have to say that none of the infant sleep books that I have read have had any advice that pertains to this particular situation, “what to do when your baby eats her crib.” Just look at those scratch marks ala Silence of the Lambs!

At this point I decided that our foray into sleep training was done for the day. We were going to have to be satisfied with our cumulative 40 minutes. We were just going to go on with our day.

So I picked you up and took you out to the living room , where I discovered that the dog(s) had vomited all over the carpet.

AWESOME.

I think that this story pretty much sums up the Week of GRUMP.

What do you get when you cross a chicken, a skeleton, a Green Bay Irishman, & a Korean?

Allow me to enlighten you:

Blow Out

This was the scene this morning at the Baeten house.

Now try to wrap your brain around the pure physicality of the above pictured feat. Emerson was sitting on the floor in her baby cage. Sitting up. So she literally shot the poop up her back with such force that it created the artistic poop display seen in the picture. Perhaps her diaper was perfectly positioned and it created a “Poop Slalom” of sorts…..but still. Think of the sheer velocity of the poop.

Is that not completely and utterly AMAZING?!?!

Is our baby gifted or what?

As you can imagine, the clean-up on this one fell into the category known as “industrial.” There was no way that any number of wipes was going to adequately take care of the mess. So we did what we could with the wipes, stripped down the baby, and prepared to hose her down in the tub.

On the way to the tub, she peed on Troy.

Then we decided to go out to breakfast and she spilled an entire glass of ice water in his lap (totally my fault, I left the water within reach).

It has been a moist day for Troy.

Hooray! Emerson crawling! This is her second triumphant crawl (we got it on video on attempt #2). The baby crying in the background is Emerson’s baby friend, Baby Simon (2 months old).

In the baby world of developmental milestones, Emerson has had a bang-up week.

Below is a brief summary of events:

Sunday October 4th, 2009: On the drive back from Chicago.

Learned how to drink out of a regular grown-up straw.

Up until this defining moment, the only luck we have had with getting Emerson to consume liquids was either directly out of the boob or little sips out of a normal cup. There was a definite boycott of anything that resembled an artificial nipple in any way – bottle, sippy cup – you name it. While this new straw drinking skill currently falls into the category of entertaining novelty, rather than functional life-sustaining food transport system, it is definitely a step in the right direction. Also not to be trivialized is the adorable “lip puckered straw sucking face.” Deadly cute.

Developed the Baby Indian War Cry Game.

Often when Emerson was making her wide array of silly baby noises, Troy or I would paddle her mouth to create the “Vibrato Baby War Cry.” I have to say that we found it amusing to an irrational degree. What made this past Sunday different is that Emerson began actively participating in the game. Now, when we bring our hand to our mouth she will consistently initiate her noise making so that we can make the Baby War Cry. Very very funny. She has even gone so far as to attempt the War Cry herself. She is moderately successful, but again, very very funny. What a clever girl. We are fairly certain that this is an early indication of her blossoming GENIUS.

Friday October 9th, 2009: Full-on forward crawling!

As mentioned in my previous post, this past week was also the week of “Mom’s stupidest and most inconvenient injuries.” As such, I spent Friday crawling around my house. Crawling to the bathroom. Crawling to get diapers. Crawling to the back door to let the dogs in and out. It turns out that extended periods of crawling is actually pretty hard on your knees. However, it is my theory that this extended period of maternal crawling resulted in accelerated BABY CRAWLING! Ridiculously exciting, with a small shadow of horror – as we know now that IT IS ALL OVER and we are now entering into the period of “Banged Up Baby (when they are mobile enough to be big trouble, but not coordinated enough to avoid smashing their faces into every possible injury inducing surface).”

And just as we thought that we couldn’t possibly squeeze any other monumental milestone into the week……

This morning (Sunday October 11th, 2009) she pulled herself up to a standing position by herself.

Let the wild rumpus begin!

So I am officially operating in “Zombie Mode.”

Today Emerson turns 7 months old, and while she is doing a virtual cornucopia of adorable 7 month old baby-ish things (rolling over, sitting up, smiling & laughing, making raspberries), the one thing that she is not doing very well is sleeping.

For the past two weeks or so, we have been on the every exciting roller coaster ride known as TEETHING. And it has reeked ungodly satanic havoc on any semblance of a sleep schedule that may have previously existed. I do have to say, that despite her discomfort, Emerson has maintained a pretty amazingly cheery demeanor through this whole ordeal.

But the sleeping. OH MY GOD. The sleeping.

The thing about sleep is that, amazingly, the body does acclimate.

Emerson is 7 months old today, and that means, that as a breast feeding mother, it has been seven months since I have gotten more than 2-4 hours of sleep in a row. LET ME REPEAT MYSELF.

I HAVE NOT SLEPT FOR MORE THAN FOUR CONSECUTIVE HOURS…..IN SEVEN MONTHS.

I know…I should be dead. But somehow, woven into the miraculous evolution of motherhood, I, and millions of other women like me……somehow adapt. We evolve. We SURVIVE.

I remember when my body adjusted the first time. The first two to three weeks of “baby boot camp” were the hardest, and then somewhere in there…..the switch flipped. I just got used to it. Somehow, I learned to function on sleep increments of 3-4 hours, and if I may say so, generally speaking, I do so amazingly well…..with grace, with poise….look at me, juggling all my balls, while still seeming relatively fresh…….look at me, I actually shower at least every other day, and manage to find time to change my underwear EVERY SINGLE DAY………..

AND THEN…….THE TEETHING!

And as those 3-4 hour sleep increments began to dwindle to 1-3 hours…… Oh, you can handle it for the first couple of nights – piece of cake! But as one or two nights becomes three or four…..and then eight……and then twelve……the tenuous threads of sanity begin to fray…..the perilously balanced Jenga game that is the health and wellness of my psyche began to wobble….ever so slightly.

The Zombie emerged.

There is nothing quite like sleep deprivation. It expresses itself in a myriad of happy ways. There are, of course, the physical symptoms: general physical fatigue, blurred vision, shortened attention span, hearing that tunes in and out – the list goes on. But that is nothing to the psychological & emotional ramifications: the irritability, the overreactiveness, the spontaneous bouts of crying – the inevitable loss of sanity, which eventually evolves into a state of numbness.

However, each day brings with it new hope! The teething can’t last forever! And even if it does, the first seven month of parenthood have proved to me that we are nothing, if not adaptable. Forever a biologist in my heart, I believe in evolution. Give it a few more days, and my body might find a way to survive and thrive on this new sleep schedule. Anything is possible!

Wednesday August 12, 2009

Dear Emerson:

Today you are six months and 12 days old.

MORE POOP

In the past two days you have managed to defile two perfectly good work outfits with your explosive renegade poop storms.

Yesterday, after going into the studio for a couple of hours, I decided that I was going to make a quick stop at the health food store and then take you home for your afternoon nap. The day was calm. It was hot, but breezy. Nothing seemed amiss. We arrived at the health food store, and we chatted gaily as I unbuckled you from your car seat. I lifted you out of the car seat and situated you on my hip as I gathered my belongings. As I turned my body from the car, I suddenly noticed the enormous smear of POOP across the front of my pants and shirt. Gasp. I looked down at you in my arms, and you smiled up at me with a look of innocent nonchalance, as if you had already forgotten your trespass.

I didn’t know what to do. For a moment I was stunned into immobility. When I finally recovered, I fumbled around for some wipes. While doing so, I looked into your car seat to find a PUDDLE of poop. OH MY GOD.  I managed to get the POOP PUDDLE cleaned up with the wipes. Then, using a burp cloth, I fashioned a barrier between your poopy butt and the car seat, I buckled you in, and we high tailed it home. No health food store for us.

Then, today, ATTACK OF THE KILLER POOPS: PART DEUX! We were sitting at the kitchen table at lunchtime, me in a chair and you in the brand new high chair that Grandma and Grandpa bought for you. I was eating my toast and you were playing with your blocks, when suddenly I hear, “PPHHHHHTTTTT……pppttttt……” I look up from my book and you are smiling at me.

Unaware of the intensity of the impending storm, I quickly finish my toast and pull you out of your high chair to change your diaper. As I hoist you to my hip, the moisture hits my arm. Arrrgh! I look down, and there is already a big smear of poop on the front of my gray slacks, along with a SPLATTER of poop on the kitchen floor. Let me say that again, A SPLATTER OF POOP ON THE KITCHEN FLOOR! Fortunately this time we weren’t in a parking lot twenty minutes away from home. As such, I was able to take you immediately to the decontamination room and get you stripped down and cleaned up. Thank goodness for little favors.

It is my hope that this is NOT the start of a new daily ritual. I really don’t have enough outfits for that sort of regiment, and I definitely don’t have time to do the necessary laundry.

I love you Poop-Asaurus-Rex.

Love,

Mommy

Yes, you read right, the title of this post is POOP.

Today Emerson gifted us with the most impressively gigantic poop OF HER LIFE. It was awesome, in the most literal sense of the word. It inspired awe. It must be the inevitable result of our recent foray into solid foods. For the past few nights Troy has been feeding her oatmeal at the  studio before we head home for bed, and uncharacteristically, Emerson has actually been EATING some of it, rather than letting it ooze from her open mouth. The end (ha ha) result: POOP-O-RAMA!

One of the interesting things about becoming a parent is the almost immediate onset of the unabashed and unembarrassed “Poop Discussions.” Now in normal civilized interactions the subject of a loved one’s poop almost NEVER enters a conversation. That is, unless one of the members of said conversation has recently given birth – in which case, all bets are off. If you are the member of the conversation that has NOT recently given birth, BE WARNED! Graphic textural descriptions of excrement may arise at ANY MOMENT and WITHOUT WARNING! Also note that you will be expected to respond with perceived INTEREST and CONCERN! Because baby poo is INTERESTING and IMPORTANT stuff!

I think that this all falls into the category of “Things That You Don’t Really Think Will Ever Happen to You, Until They Actually DO Happen to You and Oh Well.”

Also in this category are (in no particular order – some baby related and some not – but almost all related to bodily functions and/or fluids):

1. Passing gas in front of your beau (who if you have reached the passing gas stage, might already be, or perhaps soon will be revealed as, your soul mate and spouse).
2. Noticing a little stain of poop on your child’s clothing and thinking, “Oh – it’s just a little bit of poop.” Then seriously debating whether it is worth changing your child’s entire outfit for such an inconspicuous and insignificant amount of feces. (Don’t know about ya’ll, but before I had a baby I pretty much thought that EVERY amount of feces was significant.)
3. Peeing your pants as a grown-up. Don’t know about the boys on this one, but from what I can gather from the women, it almost always wrapped up in that pretty “Having a Baby” package – one of those totally awesome “also included at this amazing price, for only the cost of shipping!” add ons.
4. Valuing comfort over style in: shoes, underwear, clothing…..….you name it. At home, my cotton underpants, jeans, t-shirt, and flip flop or sneakers outfit has become more than just an outfit, it has become a UNIFORM.

I don’t know if it is my age (quickly encroaching on thirty) or the fact that I just went through one of those defining life changing experiences (having a baby), but this list (and lists like it) seems to be growing for me at an exponential rate. Se la vie.

Tuesday August 4, 2009

Dear Emerson:

Today you are six months and four days old. I had planned to write to you on the actual date of your six month birthday, but things have been a little crazy busy around here for the last couple of weeks, so I am a little bit late.

SIX MONTHS

We can’t believe that you are SIX MONTHS OLD! You are getting so big! It is pretty amazing how much you have changed in six months. You are like a real person now, with a great big personality. Every day you get more and more observant and animated. Somewhere along the line you developed full cognition. You notice everything – always looking around like you totally get what is going on around you. We wouldn’t be surprised if you just woke up one day and started speaking in full sentences, telling us exactly what you thought about healthcare reform.

The Intensity that is Emerson

So here is a list of a few of your six month milestones:

• ROLLING OVER: You have got this one down pat. Despite the fact that you don’t spend very much time on the floor, you have figured out how to roll from your back to your front and from your front to your back (a more recent skill). Lately, when you are on your tummy you sort of squirm and scoot around, like you are trying to figure out how to achieve greater mobility. I have a feeling that crawling is knocking on our door. I guess that means that we will have to become more vigilant about baby-proofing the house……

Live Action Rolling Over!

• MAX: You have noticed that Max exists and have actually become pretty interested in his comings and goings. I don’t know if this bodes very well for Max. He is an exceptionally good natured fellow, but I am not sure that he is quite ready for the ear and whisker pulling that I foresee in his rather immediate future. Right now, he is cautiously affectionate with you……and rightfully so. I think that his instinct is right on the money. He should be a little wary.

Emerson & Max

• TEETH: You have two snaggly little teeth on the bottom, and for the past few days you have been joyfully working on cutting your first top tooth. When I say joyfully, I of course mean with great composure, calmly, and without fussing …..There should be a special function on the keyboard that allows for you to clearly denote SARCASM in your typing – like bold, or italics…..control “F” for FREAKING FACETIOUS! Although, I do have to say, that despite all of the drama surrounding the “teething chronicles,” your big snaggle tooth grin is face meltingly adorable, and you have developed this very loud very funny gum smacking noise that I think is pretty darn humorous. I am also hoping that “more teeth” is somehow correlated with “more likely to eat solid food” (see next bullet point).

• SOLID FOOD: We have started to introduce you to some solid foods. Although, introduce implies a two way conversation. For instance, we would say, “Oh hello Emerson, fancy seeing you here!  I would like you to meet Mr. Rice Cereal or Miss Mushed Up Banana.” To which you might respond, “Ahhhh. Pleasure to meet you Mr. Pureed Sweet Potato. I have heard so much about you, and I must say, you are as delightful in person as the stories of you escapades would have led me to believe. I have so anticipated your arrival, Mrs. Squooshy Ripe Avocado, and now that you are here, I delight in your presence!” Yeah, much to my dismay, it hasn’t really gone like that. You are not very interested in the solid food game. While occasionally we can actually get you to consume one or two little spoonfuls, most of it ends up running out of your open mouth. It is like you can’t even be bothered to spit it out; you just leave your mouth open and let it fall from your cavernous lips. Often times you will actually gag a little bit as the tiny morsel of food touches your delicate tongue. A tad dramatic, don’t you think?

Sweet Potatoes

• FEET: While you don’t much care for solid food; you have a great love of your feet. I guess everyone has their priorities. You grab on to them and shake them about, whilst smiling gleefully. You have recently discovered the unparalleled joy of removing your socks. I have to say that I am right there with you on that one kid. I like taking off my socks too. There is really nothing better than walking around with bare feet. It is one of life’s fabulous little joys.

• SLING: Your Rubenesque physique has led me to some fairly extensive research in “baby wearing.” You are tipping the scales at about twenty pounds now, and that is an awful lot for me to lug around all day. My left bicep is becoming disproportionately large, as compared to the rest of my musculature, and while the very expensive Baby Bjorn worked well when you were a bit lighter, at your current weight it wreaks hellacious havoc on my back. Through a bit of trial and error, we have both fallen in love with the “Moby” style of sling, which is in essence a great big long piece of fabric that your wrap around your body six million times, encasing your baby in a cozy mummy-like hold against your body. It is awesome. The width of the fabric and the strategic placement of the wrapping distributes your twenty pounds much more graciously on my body, and you seem very content and happy carried around vertically so that you can see everything, smooshed up against a warm body. I wish that we had known about this in your first few months. I am positive that you would have been a much less fussy baby if we had carried you around all wrapped up in a Moby-style sling. Ahhh, the clarity of hindsight.

Baby Wearing

• SLEEP: Your sleep schedule is all over the map. For the first few months of your life, we were progressing slowly forward toward the holy grail of baby-dom, sleeping through the night. But now, if anything, you are becoming less predictable. Some nights you only wake up once or twice to eat, some nights it is two or three times. Some evenings you go down without any trouble at all, some nights you decide to mount an epic battle against the land of Nod. Most mornings you are AWAKE at 6:00 or 6:30, but then yesterday morning you slept until almost 8:00 (sweet relief). Who knows what is going on in the sleep centers of your brain? As far as napping goes, you are much more consistently sleepy during the day. Although, we have not seen much progress in the whole “napping alone in your own bed” goal. But on most days I can actually get you to take at least one long nap, which is definitely progress, and becoming NECESSARY in order for you to maintain civility in your social conduct. On a really good day we get two naps. Then you are a happy girl. I am starting to have the sneaking suspicion that naptime might always be a battleground for us. I suppose every mother/daughter relationship has a few.

We love you butter bean.

Love,

Mommy