Hot Summer Days

The first day of spring was barely a month ago, and yet this past weekend, we have been experiencing a full on summer heat wave in the Bay Area. With afternoon temperatures in the mid to high 80's, I had to think of ways to keep Armaan cool yet entertained all week and weekend.

We took a trip to the park, but with limited mobility, Armaan just sat contentedly in the baby swing for less than 30 minutes. After that, we hit the mall, which was a zoo! Too many teenagers and teenyboppers yakking away on cell phones. It hits me that actual parenting is no longer en vogue with parents of the 13 and up age group, as retailers and Starbucks employees have more interaction with the kids than their own parents. I wonder why there are so many kids at the mall without their parents? My mother made certain to accompany me wherever I went, not just to keep tabs on me, but to *gasp* spend time with her teenage daughter. Alas, I digress.

Then on Wednesday we went to Borders and sat upstairs in the kids section. While large and expansive, there wasn't much for kid patrons to DO at the Borders. I was disappointed further, when I didn't see any information for activities posted. A salesclerk was terribly unhelpful, and I was forced to find other options for Armaan to enjoy. Fortunately, a metal shelf with toys and a few books on the floor were enough to keep him occupied for a while, but then again, an 8 month old is quite easy to please. Just give him some paper and let him destroy it. I will have to figure out some other avenues for play and distraction when he gets a little older.

I am also surprised that despite moving into the burbs, there are few parents willing to interact. Is it because they have playgroups/cliques already formed and exclusive to their own bunch? I'm disappointed. Not just for my son, but for myself. I was really hoping to find some other moms to socialize with.

I am now off to get ready for another day of aimlessly wandering around a mall, or maybe back to the Borders so I can find something for this little guy to do. Any suggestions?

If it's broke, then I cain't fix it

Oh the joys of motherhood! The six month milestone has always been my favorite, even before I had my own half year old munchkin wiggling all over his playmat. This age is the perfect harmony of optimum cuteness, tempered by minimal mobility. As much as he wriggles and squirms, he just can't escape he clutches of doting mommy dearest or over stimulating uncles and grandmom. And wouldn't you know it, he's just cute as a button. He finds comedy in a shaking rattle, or a silly voice, or Tigger jumpingup from behind a pillow. Any one of these actions sends Armaan into a fit of giggles that he just can't stop.

As much as I adore my lovely son, and wouldn't trade it for the world, who knew that I still wouldn't be WHOLE after six full months post delivery? I woke up a few weeks ago with a searing pain up my leg, concentrated mostly around my right ankle area. It still hasn't disappeared or even subsided in the least. An X-ray showed NOTHING. No broken bones, or cracks, nothing! So I did a little research of my own, and here's what I found:

I probably have a stress fracture. This is also called an over use fracture; silly, because one never over uses their bodies, only uses them to the extent that God has given us. But stress fractures are not common in young people, unless they are: 1) female atheletes 2) females with irregular periods 3) females with easting disorders 4) older females that have osteoporosis.

Seeing that I don't qualify under any of the first three, the deciding factor came to #4. And sadly, I knew that I already had osteoporosis, despite being under 40. I brought it up with my doc, and she said, well geez, this all makes perfect sense now!

So a stress fracture, unlike other breakages of the bone, cannot be fixed by setting the bone, putting it in a cast, etc. Because stress fractures are tiny cracks in the bone, there is no need to set the bone. They just hurt like HELL and are virtually undetectable on Xrays. The only remedy is rest and to abstain from using the injured ankle at all costs.

One would THINK that because I am now completely homebound, and stuck on a couch all day, I would be eager and able to update my blog on the daily. Nay, my friend, you are mistaken. Remember the adorable 6 month old I mentioned earlier? Well he has the keenest senses I've evre seen. It's like he smells blood. He knows that I can't really pick him up, carry him around, and run around after his needs: bottles, diapers, paci, toys, etc etc. But now that I can barely walk, he has new demands. He wants to be rocked to sleep in the standing position. He will lie next to me, and aggressivley kick my injured ankle. And God forbid that I want to take a nap with him. Already a light sleeper, his naps have been abbreviated to less than 30 minutes twice a day. It's enough to drive a girl mad!

I complain, but as my little boo lies next to me sleeping soundly as I type this, I am overcome with love and I can't help but forget that my foot screams in agony, and that I haven't showered or slept in days. It's as if his soft breathing melts away any stress. But strike me dead if I dare lie down next to him: it's like asking him to wake up and harass me again.

Bedtime Battle : The Prologue

Insomnia probably runs in the family. It's the only explanation for my 10 week old son's refusal to go to sleep at 11:30pm. It isn't as if he gets long naps in the day; he cat naps two or three times for 5-10 minutes at a time. Yet, here I am, sitting awake because the boy doesn't want to sleep. We talked baby talk for about half an hour or more, and we had a lovely conversation, of which, I didn't understand a word (and I'm sure that he didn't either) but was the most enjoyable conversation that I've ever had.

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Okay! Back from reading the blogs. I am thoroughly wiped out now. And as luck would have it, my dear boy is finally nodding off. I forsee a lot of this bedtime back and forth in the future. I'll just hope and pray that McCain-Palin fails at the polls, so SNL has no more Palin fodder for late night TV. Otherwise, I'll be fighting my son into the late night hours on a Saturday trying to pry him away from the TV. Oh wait....we don't have a TV.

Anyhoo. Time for bed!

Sleeping Giants

This week my son has decided to become nocturnal. Ever since our Monday outing to the doctor's office, where he slept in the stroller most of the day, he's taken to staying up later and later, until yesterday, at 2am, I decided that I had enough. So today, when he woke up at 1pm, I didn't try to put him down for a midday nap. Not that it matters; he refuses to sleep during the day anyway. He did fall asleep for half an hour between 4 and 4:30, but aside from that, he's been wide awake and fussy. Around 8pm he started getting sleepy and super cranky. Finally, at 10pm, I fed him and put him down to sleep. I think he will sleep most of the night through.



It's puzzling that a child this young can go the entire day without napping at all. From 1pm until 10pm, he slept just half an hour. At night, he wakes up every 2-3 hours for his feeding, then goes back to sleep. People tell me that he's extremely alert and aware for a six week old baby, and I'm thinking, You have NO idea. My aunt noted that he sleeps like a much older child, awake the entire day and (mostly) sleeping through the night. I wouldn't be complaining much if he was the kind of baby that I could put down in his chair or play mat and leave him be for an hour. He demands that you talk to him, hold him, at least be in his vicinity so that he is reassured that he is still the center of attention. If he would take a nap during the day, or at least play by himself, I could concentrate on a number of important things. Personal hygiene has fallen by the wayside, since I couldn't fathom taking a shower in the ten minutes it takes for him to realize that I have left him alone with the musical giraffe.



So now that he is asleep, I have some time to myself to write, to read, to start exercising and turning my flab back into some semblance of a toned, healthy body. The other day I started with a few simple pilates routines, and ten crunches. I've been so sore for two days, that I can barely get up and off the sofa. Who knew you used your abs to get off the sofa?! Add to that, this weekend's upward climb from my car to the restaurant with the baby, stroller and bag, and I can hardly feel my legs anymore. I have a wedding to attend in November, and although I am already back to my pre-pregnancy weight (yes, I know, hate me) I have a ways to go in taming this stomach to look like it did before.



Half the announcements are done. Only 40 more to go.....zzzzzzz........

Busy as a Blob

It's nearly midnight, as I busy myself with our announcement cards. Armaan has been acting difficult these last two nights, taking much longer than usual to fall asleep. I really can't tell if it's normal baby fusiness, or some new phenomenon that I am yet to discover. All the lullabies and rocking of the past three hours didn't send him to dreamland. I just managed to get him to sleep a while ago after I let him doze off in my lap. If he was like a normal baby, and took naps during the day, I could accomplish a lot more, and these announcement cards wouldn't be sitting here six weeks after baby arrived.

Speaking of, I went in for my six week post-natal appointment with the Doc. He gave me a clean bill of health, and a prescription for birth control. I was a little misty eyed when I gave Doc a hug goodbye, as this was our last meeting. He and his staff have been so good to us, I really feel that they care about me and the baby, rather than treating us as just another patient. Our hospital was fantastic. Even the garage staff were kind and thoughtful. I never had to park far from the hospital door, and they would always bring my car to the exit for me. I'm sending the Doc and his staff a birth announcement, as well as a box of chocolates as a thank you. I told him that I would see him again in a few years with Baby #2. Hopefully he won't have retired by then!

To Do List for tomorrow:

- Finish addressing announcements
- Fold baby's laundry
- Eat lunch (this is getting more difficult everyday)
- Research for a project that I am starting with Mom
- Call to have pump rental renewed
- Sell couch
- Locate student loan documents and call for deferment
- Have prescription filled
- blah blah blah

Of course, I can only do any of these tasks when the baby takes a nap. Maybe I should add "Put baby for nap" on the task list. That should take the entire day in itself.

Strangle me with those leggings, Please.

Today Armaan and I went to the mall in celebration of one of the warmest days of the year. I think it was close to 85 degrees today. Certainly it was no comparison to the Houston summers of my youth, but I will take any degree of warmth and sunshine in this godawful cold city. So I put him in the Snugli and off we went to Powell street to pursue some low grade retail therapy.

I think having a cute baby strapped to your body is like having a get out of jail free card. Even the MUNI officers, who are usually Nazis about checking your proof of purchase stubs and booking you for not finding yours in time, seemed to back off from their attack. The checking officer at Powell station, one of the busiest in the city, and most notorious for fare skippers, waved me by as he meticulously checked all the other people getting out. "Go ahead ma'am don't worry about it." It was like garlic warding off vampires.

So I bought the YSL nailpolish in the fall 08 collection, a nice dark purple-y color. That, and a pair of leggings. I couldn't resist. I know I won't be going anywhere that I can wear them any time soon. I mean, the hubby can't seem to put the baby to sleep for the night, nor can he determine if the face the baby is making is a "I'm hungry" face, or an "I'm gassy" face. Knowing hubby, he won't be able to distinguish between the two, overdose him on formula, and a projectil vomit episode will ensue. Then he will call me in a panic on my cell phone, and I will have to abandon whatever semblance of the adult world I am indulging in, and come home to tend to a baby-turned-fountain-of-Similac.

The nailpolish will come to use sooner, though. While I can't head off to the spa to have my nails done, I can do a hack job at home. Imperfect 10, here I come!

Another Sleepless Night

It's 1:30AM and I can't sleep. It's not that the baby is awake and thus, keeping me awake. It's just that I can't fall asleep when I get into bed. I'm exhausted, and my brain hurts, but sleep just will not find me right now. I suppose I will automatically get feeding and diaper duty with baby wakes up for his 2AM shift.

Went to Bang San Thai for dinner with Chris and Andrea. It was quite fabulous. The best part (aside from the chicken wings) was seeing Chris holding Armaan. His expression was just pure comedy. You could tell that he had never held any person so small before.

Just when I thought that Armaan had gotten over the projectile vomit thing, he barfed all over me. Furthermore, he not only barfed on me, he barfed and got it on my butt. Now, I know that sounds absolutely absurd but it's quite possible and true! When he threw up, I thought phew! at least he missed me, and just barfed on the couch. But when I got up I realized that yes, he hadn't thrown up ON me. He threw up on the sofa, which in turn, spread to my pants, and lo and behold, vomit on my ass.

Baby - 4; Mommy - 0

Baby Baldy

Ramadan Mubarak to everyone!

We had an interesting weekend back at my parents' house. Saturday morning my mom and dad made breakfast as usual, but then whipped out the trimmer and insisted on shaving my son's head.

A little background: Muslim tradition dictates that a baby should have his/her first haircut within a month of his/her birth, and that the hair's weight in silver should be donated to charity. Armaan's hair weighed less than an ounce, and an ounce of silver is going for $17 on the current market, so we are supposed to donate $17 to someone in need. This is called the aqiqa. Additionally, the parents are supposed to slaughter a goat and donate the meat to those in need. Normally, people just throw a diner party and serve the meat at that time.

I wasn't really keen on shaving his head. I would rather give the money and forget about the hair business. But mom and dad insisted, and so over eggs and paratas, I relented. Armaan was very good about the whole mess, and was quiet as a mouse until the very end when his patience ran thin. Then he started to whine a little bit.

I think that shaving his head makes his face look bigger. Hidden under that awning of dark black feathery hair, his face took on a mousey quality. Now that he resembles Kojak, he looks slightly bigger.

Aside from the aqiqa, Armaan had time to brush up on his projectile vomit skills. Sunday morning, he basted his grandpa with second hand formula, then after he got cleaned up, peed on him in mid-diaper change. He repeated said procedure that evening when I was at the park behind mom and dad's house for a picnic. I didn't even get to take a bite of barbecue chicken when M called and said I needed to come home STAT. He had barfed all over my little brother's bed, and himself, which mandated a bath. After the bath, I took him to my other brother's bed (little brother had banned his nephew from the bed for the rest of the evening) and before I could take his towel off, Armaan had peed on the bed. GOOD GRIEF.

Tonight we are going to venture off into the Tenderloin for dinner. Armaan's first visit to the TL aka Crack Addicts R Us. My mom and dad would kill me if they knew we were going to take their first born grandson to the TL, thai food or not. Time to test out the Snugli in the field! I;m kinda excited. =)

One Month Old!

Today my firstborn is a month old.
It's amazing how quickly time passes, especially when you are up to your eyeballs in dirty diapers and baby's laundry. Laundry that, by the way, my mother won't allow me to do myself, since I live in San Francisco, and God only knows what kind of strange people wash their clothes in my apartment complex. It probably doesn't occur to my mother that my baby's tender flesh will come into contact with my clothes and my husband's clothes anyways, which are routinely washed in the apartment's laundry facilities. If we have not yet contracted some horrific "San Francisco Disease" it is unlikely that our boy will either.
The disease that he has contracted, unfortunately, is the disease that many firstborn children and first grand children (and in his case, first great-grandchild) have contracted in the past: it is the Won't-Sleep-In-The-Crib Disease. This disease is contracted by the comforting touch and cradling of doting grandparents, newly minted parents and aunts and uncles. The more one holds and comforts the new baby, the more likely it is that he or she will have a more serious form of the disease. Symptoms include crying when left alone in the crib, and absolute silence and utter calm when picked up again. My research indicates that there is no cure for this disease, and the treat ment is painful for both parents and baby. Treatment involves leaving the baby to cry and snuffle for a few minutes until wailing ensues. Only then may the parents or caregivers pick up and soothe the baby, and then put the baby right back in the crib. This is to be repeated until the baby gets a clue and starts sleeping in the crib. Needless to say, newly minted Dad is vehemently opposed to this treatment, and I am somewhat opposed as well, although in the early morning, when Dad is off to work, I let the baby snuffle a few minutes longer than I normally would, to get some much needed shut eye.
We are going to the pediatrician's office in about an hour for his check-up, and to address the diaper rash that won't go away.