This post mentions poop; you've been warned

Sam had me worried a few days ago with his bodily functions (or lack thereof). He wasn't pooping as often or with the same consistency (ew) that he always has. I immediately starting fearing the inevitable Gloved Hand Pull-Out and was trying to figure out a way to get Steve to do it instead of having to do it myself. (I could make a thousand jokes right now about pulling you-know-what out of your you-know-where, but I will hold myself back.) But then, lo and behold, our little Sammy's face turned as red as a tomato and after some grunting and groaning, we could smell the prize. Luckily it was Steve's turn for a diaper change, and what we saw was pretty, um, NASTY. (Not that all poop isn't nasty, but after wiping that little bottom every day and actually getting his poop on my hands- ACK- I have become sort of immune to the gross factor surrounding Sam's poops.) The poor child didn't even get the poop into the diaper-- IT WAS STILL HANGING ONTO HIS BOTTOM. And then my guilt trip began.
Due to circumstances that I won't go into, I haven't been breastfeeding Sammy the "old-fashioned" way, but instead have been pumping religiously and feeding him via bottle. I'm not real sure why anyone would ACTUALLY breastfeed now, after having done it this way, unless you are just one of those people who can figure it out easily the first go-round. Sam and I were not so fortunate... (By-the-way, totally NOT advocating that you shouldn't try breastfeeding the conventional way, it just didn't work for me.)

Pros:

• Someone else (aka HUSBAND) can always feed your kid and it does not become your sole responsibility
• He is still, in fact, receiving breastmilk, thus making him healthy and strong
• I get to spend at least 10 minutes by myself every 3-4 hours (HEAVEN)
• We get to use pacifiers and not stress about "nipple confusion"
• I don't have to sit out in public with my boobs out under a small piece of fabric that I feel is just a breeze away from exposing some private lady parts to the general public

Cons:

• Must be willing to be hooked up to pumping apparatus for 10 minutes every 3-4 hours (I really don't see how this could be anything but a PRO since you're having the very much coveted "alone time," but some people complain about it)
• Must wash bottles and nipples (eh, not such a big deal)

Ok so OBVIOUSLY the Pros outweigh the Cons. But right before we moved from Virginia to Pennsylvania (and then to Tennessee, ahhh) I slacked off on my pumping. I didn't have time-- had to pack, clean, organize, sort, throw away, tie up loose ends, and get ready for a big move with a little baby! So to compensate for my lack of pumping, we supplemented with formula. And then my pumping slacked off even more and he was getting a heckuva lot more formula than he was breastmilk. I started rationalizing in my head why I should just completely quit pumping and go with straight formula.
"Lots of babies are formula-fed and are perfectly healthy."
"My pumping schedule never lines up with Sammy's sleeping schedule and it makes it harder for us to get things done and/or run errands."
"It would be so much more convenient for me to just mix the formula and chuck the breast pads already, I'm tired of feeling like a cow..."
But then I saw my little man struggling to complete a basic bodily function-- POOP-- and I knew that I couldn't give up pumping for my own selfish reasons. So I started up pumping again and after a few days of consuming more breastmilk than formula, my boy's bowel products are looking (and smelling) much more familiar. And he smiles when he's done! For a while there he looked like he needed a nap after he finished pinching off one of his super-turds. So yes Mama, I learned my lesson and I won't try anything like that again...

And can I go off on a tangent here? (Of course I can!) I was at Mass today with Sammy (it IS Ash Wednesday, people. Go to church and just say no to meat) and the girl sitting in front of me was there with her husband (military) and she had this infant carseat with her, but I didn't see a baby anywhere. When I glanced over later on, I noticed her holding the TINIEST child I think I've ever laid eyes on. I would venture to say the kid weighed no more than 6lbs (and that is being VERY GENEROUS). Now I'm not jealous she had a small baby, that her kid was asleep during church while mine was treating me like his own personal bouncy seat/drool catcher, or even that she basically birthed a small cantaloupe while I birthed a ripe watermelon. Nope, no jealousy there. What got to me was how SKINNY and PUT TOGETHER and ALERT she was, and also dressed in what appeared to be PRE-PREGNANCY CLOTHES. I swear, judging by the size of her child, they probably discharged her from the hospital this morning and she went home, took a shower, and came straight to Mass. The only thing is that she looks like she was never pregnant!!!! Gaaaahhhh.... Meanwhile, I was doing FANTASTIC to just show up to Mass, dressed in something besides my typical sweatpants and Steve-shirt get-up. People like her make me sick, and I know I should be so happy that people are able to get out and do things like that right after having a baby. And I am, I REALLY AM. But it still makes me slightly sick that she looks THAT GOOD with a baby still THAT SMALL. (For the record, I did the Good Christian Thing and told her Congratulations and that her baby was so cute and tiny! And I smiled while I said it!)

Then as I was walking out of the church, I banged Sammy's carseat into the side of the doorway (stupid skinny doorways!) and the man handing out bulletins said, "Good thing that wasn't his head, huh!" Har har. This kid only triples in weight every time I put him in the stupid seat. Add a very narrow doorway and lots of people trying to get out of an overly heated church so they can get to Captain D's already because this fasting thing is FOR THE BIRDS, and you can understand why I was ready to shove my bulletin down his throat. Not the greatest attitude to have immediately following Mass. I was all better after cooling down outside and snarfing down a Filet-O-Fish (YUM).

In other news, I FINALLY learned how to work our video camera! And I took a video! It was great! So easy and effortless that I was left wondering why I hadn't done this sooner. Then I tried uploading the videos to the computer... That is where my story comes to a screeching halt. It says something about it's not a video, and I haven't read that far in the instructions yet, but I'm definitely taking it with me to my brother's wedding this weekend and hoping to capture some footage that will win me millions (or maybe just thousands) on America's Funniest Home Videos (aka: funniest show that I love to watch but Steve hates). I will admit that the Bob Saget replacement does not have the best jokes, but I'm not there to watch him; I'm there to watch kids nail their dads in the groin with bats and baseballs and fat old ladies fall into pools and off porches and I could go on and on, but I think you get the gist of it. I LOVE THAT SHOW.

Yes, my little brother's wedding IS this weekend and I am SO looking forward to seeing my family and wearing HEELS and passing off this little booger of a boy to anyone with open arms! (I'm going ahead and assuming that there will be lots of open arms. I'm optimistic, what can I say.) I have been stressing out about what he's going to wear (like he's the friggin' bride or something) and Steve and I actually found him the cutest outfit while we were at the mall this past weekend. Speaking of the mall, guess what our mall has????? A CHEAP CHINESE RESTAURANT THAT MAKES BOURBON CHICKEN GAHHHHH. Obviously we took the free sample and said that we would be back just as soon as possible to eat dinner there. (Why don't they have drive-thrus at the mall again?) So it's looking like Steve and I are doomed to eat cheap mall Chinese food instead of in an actual restaurant, but it is SO worth it for the bourbon chicken. I cannot stress enough how everyone should try this if they are within a reasonable driving distance to a mall with a cheap Chinese place in the food court. (Plus, free people watching!)
 Anywho, we found this outfit:

but wouldn't you know they didn't have Sam's size!! So the girl working there has my phone number and Steve's phone number, and probably my parents' house number and any other pertinent information so that just in case they get another shipment in before this weekend, I can be FIRST in line to snag one. We got him these cute little blue shoes that would go PERFECT with this and obviously we would put some pants on the child because Lord have mercy if folks caught wind of those chubby little white legs hanging out in the breeze, no one would focus on the task at hand, and that is, of course, to fawn over the bride and her WHITE DRESS. Not my son's white legs (cute as they may be). And duh, I have about six backup outfits so that I can be prepared for the inevitable-- poop smeared up to his neck.

Oh did you say that you're curious what our new bed is like? Is it everything we hoped for and more? Do I wake up looking like a beautiful princess QUEEN instead of the Wicked Witch of the Southeast due to the fabulous nights of sleep I'm getting? The answers to all of the above are YES! And yes, yes, yes. It is so amazing. I actually woke up in the night last night to Sammy crying and found myself DROOLING all over the pillow. That is how good I'm sleeping. I have no aches and pains when I wake up, and compared to the old bed, I was practically a chiropractor's dream. It does everything those cheesy commercials say it does. And a 20-year warranty. Not too shabby. I am sure now that nothing else will ever feel as fine and I am reminded of this daily because I still do my pumping in the spare bedroom on the old springy bed.
I would include a picture of our bed (even though it looks just like any other bed) because it is well-decorated in our new sheets and comforter (QUEEN-SIZE! Did I mention the ROOM? Ohmygoodness the room! No more bumping knees with my comatose husband!!!), but Steve and I have a headboard project in the works and I would rather wait until it's all finished before taking pictures of it.

I think this post might have gotten a wee bit out of control. I'd better stop and post a picture of Sammy before I go any further. And yes, pictures from the wedding will soon follow, do not fear.

I'm not on WIC

But apparently I look like I am! Definitely NOT a compliment, in my book... In my defense though, I was buying WIC-ish items--baby food, bananas, strawberries, bleach. I was also wearing one of Steve's shirts (aka "my new wardrobe"), no makeup, and crazy hair (the wind is wild today).

I'm obviously not too far-out looking to meet some of our neighbors though! Besides meeting one of Ronnie's owners, I met two ladies that live across the street. Desperate Housewives. And only one of them is actually married. Ahem.
I think we will be the type of neighbors that wave, but don't talk much (due to the small fact that I am still very much in love with my husband, don't smoke heavily - or at all actually - , and don't lust after alcoholic beverages at 930am, not that I would turn one down if it was offered to me, let me be clear, I just don't dream about bar-hopping that early in the day).
But a neighbor that I am interested in getting to know better is Jennifer! She has my name! And a baby! And a pug! And a bigger dog too because they thought the pug was lonely and needed another dog friend! Could our lives be any more similar?? (And no, it turns out that pugs don't get lonely, they are more than happy to soak up all of the attention on their own and yes, we both realized our mistakes AFTER we got the bigger dogs.)

Hank the Pug seems a lot like Odie - He even hopped in the stroller basket while we were talking because he was tired of standing around and walking already (they were probably two houses down from their house). The bigger dog (whose name we did not discuss because, hello, he's not a pug) reminds me of Marci - a bit crazy, lots more energy, actually excited to go on a walk, and slightly peeved that I stopped my car in the middle of the road to talk about the PUG and not him.

Other neighbors we've met have all been children since that is one thing that is more popular in this neighborhood than being military. A group of kids introduced us to Snooki the dog and a rat whose name I can't remember, but I actually HELD the thing in my hands (Ew). Steve later told me it was a hamster, but I didn't know that at the time, so I totally get credit for being willing to hold a rat. The kid told me (very seriously) that my baby seemed to like the rat so I should get him one. I said, "Oh yeah! Once he can take care of it, he can have one. I bet they poop a lot, huh?"
He said, "Well, in their cages, yeah. (<duh, Jenn>) But he doesn't poop in your hands anymore. He still pees in your hands sometimes though." And that was when I tossed the little hamster-rat back to his owner. Snooki was much cuter to pet anyways.
Another kid- Reggie- just walked up to Steve and asked him to fix his bike. He is quite handy, but come on, it's not like he carries a tool box on him.
Garret (another neighbor!) came and seeded our backyard the other day so that it wouldn't continue to muck up our backyard neighbor's lawn every single time it rains. He's quite interesting. He got a little sidetracked from aerating by talking about politics and military and lots of other stuff that went way over my head. But ultimately, he is trying to monopolize the lawn care business in our little slice of suburbia. We'd be crazy to let anyone else touch our lawn. There are a bunch of weirdos out there, ya know, trying to get at our lawns with their inexperienced hands and cheap seed and we need to go with the guy that lives down the street (Garret) and he will even give us the good-neighbor discount. So we're probably just going to buy a lawn mower at a yard sale and take care of it ourselves if, for no other reason, than to avoid weird political discussions with the grass guy. Thanks for the seed though! We really needed it!

Not much else is happening here. Oh yeah, Sam finally pooped after three days of holding it hostage in his body. I was starting to get a little worried. But he pooped three times yesterday (he averages one a day usually). He is also grabbing at the food Steve and I are eating but refusing anything offered to him on a spoon (I think he knows it's baby food, and therefore, pretty disgusting.) I dared Steve to eat some of Sam's baby food but was then informed that people with upset tummies (aka MY HUSBAND) eat baby food like it's nothing because it won't upset their stomachs, something I've never heard of normal grown people doing (because it makes sense to just eat a sleeve of saltines if you're feeling queasy), so that really took all the fun out of the dare. So no one's eating baby food except Sam, and even he is refusing it.

Our new bed is coming tomorrow!! (<Screams, yells, and dances around>) I've been dreaming of this bed for some time now since our bed is very cheap and spring-y and my mother-in-law pointed out that the springs are actually PROTRUDING OUT OF THE BED, and yes, this is the same mattress I slept on during pregnancy months one through NINE and I dreamed about our new bed harder than ever during that time. We said that once we PCSed somewhere we would get the new bed. And don't you know that after arriving and getting all of our junk (including said old, springy, cheap bed) off of the truck, Steve and I hightailed it over to the bed store and ordered that new mattress!! And it's finally coming tomorrow afternoon between noon and four!! I fully expect to spend all of my afternoon and evening lying in every position possible on the bed, putting our new clean sheets on it, and kissing it until I fall asleep. I also plan to sleep through any crying Sammy puts out tomorrow night and I have let him know that in no uncertain terms. We are all prepared to get a solid 8-9 hours of sleep. Amen.

And even though this picture does not tie into the post, I will put it here anyways because that's all anyone truly wants to see here, am I right? The writing is for me, the pictures are for you. Enjoy.

First day of work

Well, sort of. He came back home after an hour or so. Turns out that since no one told him what time to come in, he came in after they started briefing, so they let him sign in and head home. Good news for Sammy and me! Another day with Daddy! Although we took First Day Of Work Pictures and sang the Transportation Song and the Army Song to get him pumped up and then we stood in the driveway and waved goodbye.

 

It's a good thing Steve got to come home and hang out with us today. We had quite the eventful day. After Steve came home and Sammy woke up from his nap, we took a little family walk around the neighborhood and what did we see? A very old pug running around lost ("running" is a loosely used term around here; sometimes I claim to run, but most people would probably classify it as a slow jog, maybe even a trot, if you will). Anywho, the pug didn't have a collar on and since he was very old, we figured someone might have abandoned him due to age or physical issues, so Steve did the dirty work of chasing him down (only because I had the very important job of Pushing The Stroller, and if you can't remember from the last sentence about the little fact that I DON'T RUN). Watching this was some classic entertainment. I've seen Steve chase Odie down when she's being disobedient and it's funny. But watching him chase down this ancient, white-faced pug was just hilarious. Then the pug would lay down on the sidewalk (no doubt exhausted from exerting so much energy) and he and Steve looked like they were having a conversation. Then Steve would stick out his hand and off they went again. Steve finally got a hold of him and took him into our mudhole backyard. When I got back there with a bowl of water, the pug was just lying down and letting Steve pet him. We decided that we would post flyers around the neighborhood before everyone started coming home from work. But first we needed to do a photo shoot. I will admit, he's not the prettiest pug I've ever laid eyes on, but he was so sweet and old and pitiful that you can't help but love him (but Lord, does Odie photograph better than him!).

We got a call from his owner before we even posted all of our flyers. His name is Ronald (ha!) and he belongs to someone who is familiar with the area code 3-3-4 (just got finished with flight school!). So Ronnie is back home, safe and sound, and I'm sure Marci is breathing huge sighs of relief that she will only have to deal with one smushy face at a time.

After the glorious reunion of dog and owner, Steve and I (and Sam, duh, the kid is always with us) set out to find some wine. We were getting "our wine" at Ft Lee for a mere $7 a bottle! The good stuff! So cheap! I suggested buying (at least) a case of it to take out here with us, but Steve was certain that the Class Six here at Campbell would carry it for about the same price so there was no need to take up extra space in the car with a bunch of wine. Boy, do I wish I'd given up a little leg room for the wine. The Class Six here at Campbell sells it for $12 a bottle!! $12!?! My drinking habits are going to send us straight to the poor house. We didn't buy any there because I figured, hey, at Walmart it's usually $8 a bottle, we'll just get it there instead. So we go to Walmart. (I'm not even going to get into that experience, but holy cow.) We hunt around for it and finally ask an employee and she says that they don't carry wine. No wine?? Whaaa?? So after trying a different Walmart (you wouldn't believe how many are in a 20-mile radius of our home) and being directed to a liquor store down the street, we saw that my wine was being sold for $11 a bottle. Still a little too pricey for me to drink in the quantities that I see fit. This afternoon we went to a Sam's Club (that is actually less than a mile from the last Walmart). That's where my mom gets the exact wine that I'm looking for, so I know they've gotta have it. But they don't. We aren't even members at Sam's Club. We just walked in and said that we wanted to look around. They got all suspicious of us but once they saw that we had a baby, I guess they thought we were good to buy some diapers or something. So we wandered around Sam's Club for awhile staring at giant packages of everything under the sun. "Look! A 600-pack of diapers!" "Look! 120 Boogie Wipes!" "Look! A 3-gallon tub of hemorrhoid cream!" Wow what a place to shop. (Side note: Who the H needs all of that crap in such massive quantities???? The prices aren't even discounted!! Scam.)
Back on track here: Wine. We looked all over the place and finally asked a lady up front about it. Turns out that Tennessee has a law about regular ol' places (like grocery stores and gas stations) not being allowed to sell wine, but instead you have to go to a special liquor store to purchase it. You want beer? Oh, they've got it. Tons of it. But wine? Nectar of the devil? Go to the liquor store, you heathens. Craziness. And the liquor stores jack up the prices of the wine because they know it's some sort of freak novelty up here. So I'm whining instead of wine-ing. It is not near as much fun. When we find it cheap (because I WILL find it cheap), I plan on stocking up. BIG TIME. As in, I-Know-What-That-Extra-Bedroom-Is-For-Now Stocking Up.

So here's to hoping that Steve has another good first day at work tomorrow with the Screamin' Eagles, Ronnie keeps himself put, and Sammy has a good night of sleep tonight. I'd raise my glass, but it's just water.

Ohmygosh help, Help, HELP

Good morning!
Hope y'all slept well last night. It seems that we are falling back into some sort of regression as far as sleep goes. So we only say "good morning" here because it is customary and for no other reason obviously...
I don't know what Sam's problem is. Our sink here in the kitchen is divided, so we started using the baby tub in the bathtub, which, heaven forbid, does not fully recline like the sink experience, so Sam has started hating baths that take longer than 14 seconds. And remember when bathtime used to calm him down and get him ready for bed???

NO MORE.
So now he starts getting crabby and wanting to go to bed at 5pm (holy geez) which means that we have to alternate who entertains him for the next hour and a half because all hell breaks loose if you try to put him in his jumperoo or swing instead of holding him and dancing around the room. So once 630 comes around, Steve usually starts his bath while I start dinner, but usually I have to go in there to make sure Steve isn't using hot pokers on him (he doesn't) because Sam screams until his face turns purple... and for no apparent reason. The first night he did it, it scared me to the point of taking his temperature rectally. (That's saying something!) Now I know it's just a sad part of bathtime.

And after Screamfest 2011, it's a race to get the little person lotioned up with a bottle stuck in his pie hole. More screaming. Stick him in the crib with pacifier and mitts to prevent another case of Bloody Baby Head. More screaming, and after a few checks to make sure he's truly not being smothered by anything, he finally goes to sleep.

But the major regression we've experienced is the amount of time that he stays asleep. When he was starting out with the sleep training, the first hunk of sleep would last 5 or sometimes 6 hours straight, with 2 to 3 hour intervals after that until it was time to wake up. Now he will sleep from 7 until 10, and then scream bloody murder on the hour, every hour after that. So while it is a success that he's finally sleeping on his back in his crib, and he's finally coming around to this whole pacifier phenomenon, it BLOWS that we're getting less sleep than before. Most of the time that we go in there because of the crying, his eyes are closed, pacifier in mouth, and nothing else is wrong. WHAT THE H, MAN??? That is especially frustrating.

Steve tried giving him a bottle last night because we figured he was hungry. He would only take an ounce or two (meaning: not hungry AT ALL) and then kept on fussing. We probably listened to him cry from 3am til 630am. Straight. For no reason. Lucky for Steve and me, we can sleep through that kind of thing. And lucky for everyone else, we live in a single family home where we don't have to worry about driving an upstairs neighbor to the brink of insanity with all the incessant fussing.

What are we supposed to do about this?? I can't believe that we are the first ones to experience some sort of sleep regression like this, but at the same time, I wouldn't be at all surprised if we were! We will do literally ANYTHING for some shut-eye around here. Suggestions are more than welcome.