I just realized...

I'm being a complete and total wuss.  I have a three month old who slept six hours when he was four days old, progressed swiftly to seven hours, and has reliably slept for eight to ten hours at night for at least a month.

I seriously have no room to whine about his taking short naps during the day.

So this is me... not whining.... 

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

Shush.  I do not recall inviting commentary from the peanut gallery.

Now... in the last week or so, the "firsts" have been coming one after another.

First giggle... February 20th.  I was tickling behind his ears and he gave me a real giggle. :)

First grab... February 21st.  It was his pacifier.  I had put him up to burp, brought him back off my shoulder, and found that he had his pacifier in his hand.  Picture me looking around frantically going "Camera, camera, camera ... HAH!"

Four days shy of three months!!

First time re-identifying a parent who has changed their appearance... February 24th.  John came home from work having gotten his hair cut and his mustache shaved. JJ took one look at him and started screaming. It took a good twenty minutes to convince him that yes, it really was Daddy.

First trip to the doc for an identifiable illness (as opposed to first-time mommy nerves)... February 25th.    Turns out he's got a UTI, poor baby.  But lots of nursing and some ointment and good sleep (In the Moby!!!), and today the fever is gone and he's been much happier today.

He is also been trying REALLY HARD to turn over, both back to tummy and tummy to back.  I am diligently shooting video when I see him trying, so hopefully I'll catch it on tape when he pulls it off.

And WOWSERS has he grown.  Over 10 and 1/2 pounds now, and check out his feet!

Twenty Days Old                                          Ten Weeks Old

Today... Three Months and One Day

John is determined the boy is going to take his college football team to state.

I suggest letting him figure put how to walk first.  LOL

"WWAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!... Oh. Milk."

Okay, I'm crossing my fingers and hoping little man stays asleep long enough for me to post...

There he is... been down for a whole hour!!!

Nipple confusion, over-supply, under-supply, bottle preference, colic, reflux, all these and more have been bandied about between my husband and I over the last few weeks.  Somewhere around 3 weeks old, little JJ went from the most laid-back baby I've ever seen in all my born days to screeching banshee child.  Every waking moment, if he wasn't inhaling his milk, he was screaming.

We tried everything.   For a solid month.  All the doctors could say was "It's colic, he's fine, he'll grow out of it."   ARGH!!  Not what a mother wants to hear!  My baby was in pain, and the only thing I could do about it was try desperately to get him to either eat or sleep, neither of which he had any interest in doing.  

I've never been so stressed out & miserable.  

About two weeks ago, we discovered that the child who had been fighting and sometimes flat out refusing the breast for two weeks would take his milk just fine from a bottle.  In fact he did better with the bottle than at the breast... didn't swallow nearly as much air, burped easier, and slept better too.

Fantastic.  I'll pump.  I can do that.

Except I couldn't.  My little Medela Harmony is a wonderful tool, as is its heftier cousin, the Medela In Style Advanced.  Neither of them allowed me to express enough milk to keep JJ fed long term.  I kept up with him for the last two weeks, but just barely, and he was steadily gaining ground on me.  My production was coming up, but not fast enough, and the dreaded Formula was looming on the horizon... we even bought a box of Gerber Gentle as backup in case I couldn't get production up far enough.

I felt like the world's worst mother EVER.  

Then suddenly, three days ago, JJ decided he wanted to nurse again.  No warning.  I just woke up Saturday morning to find the little sucker (pun intended) firmly latched onto the milk bar, sound asleep.  I must have helped him, he's not even two months old, but I don't remember doing it, so yay for sleep-nursing!  Since then, all he's wanted to do was nurse.  Nurse nurse nurse nurse nurse.  To the point where he was literally sleeping at the breast.  I spent Saturday and Sunday sitting on our bed watching the first season of Ghost Whisperer (yes, I know it's cheesy, sue me, it's entertaining), and just swapping sides every time I started a new episode.   He's still a bit gassy, but the all-afternoon-&-evening attacks of the screeching banshee child have not yet resumed.  *crosses fingers*

He was bidding fair to do the same today, but finally went down about an hour ago and seems to be taking a decent nap.  If I get two hours of sleep out of him, I'll dance a jig in the living room, I swear.

The title of today's post?  No matter how loud the kid was screaming, if he tasted milk and that's what he was after, he would instantly lock onto whatever was in his mouth, be it tit or bottle, and go to town.  It's amazing how fast silence can descend in a house with a newborn.

Hmm... there has been cute stuff lately I've been meaning to post about....

Oh, right!  

All parents know about baby firsts.  Baby's first smile, birthday, cold, snowfall, etc.  Well, around six weeks we got baby's first "conversation".  He has been cooing and gurgling more and more lately, discovering new sounds almost by the day it seems, and one day when he cooed and I cooed... he cooed BACK!!!  He actually responded!  We went back and forth for almost three minutes that first time, and believe you me I squealed like a school-girl when he was done.  I picked him up and danced his little behind all around the living room.  His daddy thought I had lost my ever-loving mind.

Until last week when he did it for John too.  Then I got to stand there and grin while my husband did goofy things and made silly faces trying to get the baby to "talk" with him some more.

I don't expect I'll be letting John live that down any time soon.

Folks, I tried really hard to get it on video for y'all, truly I have, but little man sees that camera come out and he just stops whatever he's doing.  I did finally get him to smile on camera for me though... 

Whattaya think?  How handsome is my little dude!

Thrush... not a cute woodland bird.

You may have been wondering where I got off to this last week or so... well, baby boy and I were having a minor issue.  Thrush.  

 

This kind.                     Not this kind.

Oh, don't I wish we were talking about a pretty little bird with a sweet flute-like song.  

Don't.  I.  Wish.

As you may imagine, this resulted in some general consternation all around.  When I first noticed those patchy white spots on the inside of JJ's lips, I thought it was just milk.  Then I discovered that it did not easily wipe off, and was concerned.  By the next morning... OUCHIE, like someone was running a red hot wire through milk ducts.  Not good!

Did I immediately call our pediatrician?  No.  (Do not under any circumstances hesitate to do so, this is just me, folks.)  While John was calling the pediatrician, being a child of the internet age, I jumped on my computer and inquired of the ladies on the baby boards just what the trouble might be.  Thrush was mentioned, along with possible latching and related supply issues.  Did a little more research, found a few pictures... yup, thrush.  The suggestions ranged from OMG CALL YOUR DOCTOR NOOOOWWWWW!!!!! to "Make an appointment" to "in the meanwhile, try xyz."  

Well, I chose options b and c.  We'd already made an appointment for Monday morning (this was Saturday), and I nagged John into taking me out to find some of the aforementioned xyz.  In our case, we chose the Gentian Violet, for several reasons.  A) It was available over the counter, meaning it was something we could try over the weekend instead of either waiting for Monday or going to Urgent Care.  B) The information I was able to find suggested that if we were lucky and had caught the infection in its very early stages, the Gentian Violet alone just might turn the trick.  C) It's cheap.  Yes, I'm a horrible mother for considering money when my child's health is involved.  I know.  But if I can fix a problem with a $1.50 bottle from Walgreens instead of a $300 urgent care bill we can't pay, prescriptions we can't afford to fill, and the resultant frustration, I'll take that in a heartbeat.

So we got home after trying Walmart (didn't have it, even though the website said the specific store did indeed have it in stock... I suspect the end of shift contributed mightily to this occurrence), GNC (the very nice boy at the counter had never heard of it, but went online in his back room and found out where we *could* get it), and Walgreens (where the very nice GNC employee sent us, and the Walgreens pharmicist found ONE bottle left in the entire store.  *Whew*).  

I go back to my lovely laptop (Oh, interwebz, how do I love thee, let me count the ways...), and pull up the previously located information on how to use this itty bitty bottle of purple stuff.  Turns out I have to paint it all over the taps on the milk bar, and the first time all over the inside of baby boy's lips, cheeks, & half-way back on his tongue.  

Oh, yeah.  This is gonna be all kindsa fun.

I did mine first, and listened to John make jokes about purple pasties while it dried.  *scowl*  Then we did JJ's application.  Oh, he was NOT a happy camper, not in the slightest, no sirree Bob.  When we were finished, we had a screaming fit to be tied baby who looked like he'd been eating grape koolade straight from the jar.  When he was done actually eating, he stood as a warning to those in the mad scientist community who might ever consider crossing a certain fast food clown with his purple burger-gobbling pal.

Three days later, he still looked like he'd gotten into Mommy's theatre make-up.

But it worked, and thankfully it only took 3 days, I tasted that mess and it is NASTY.

So, we're back, and recovering from the latching issues I suspect resulted from the taps at the milk bar tasting of the sourest Sour Apple candy ever. 

Without the candy.