I lay here on the couch, finally getting around to doing my daily blogging.  I lay here with a tissue stuffed up my left nostril.  I lay here tending to my congested daughter while the hubby is sleeping on the other couch.

I’m seriously going to smoother him with a pillow soon.  He must be a narcoleptic or something; he has the ability to sleep through an atomic bomb.  Must be nice.

I asked him to go and get me a tissue and my baby wipes container from the couch.  I’m recycling the baby wipes container for my snotty tissues instead of throwing them on the floor like I want to.

He said he would get me the tissues but won’t grab the baby wipes.  “I won’t go anywhere near Pandora’s box.”

News flash, have you seen me today.  Pandora’s box has already been open and I look like hell run over.

He is off work this week so you would think it is the best time (if there is a best time) to be sick.  Sha, right.  He actually told me this afternoon to “remember this” because he let me take a nap.  Uh, you are kidding me?  I don’t get sick days.

My nose is seriously so raw.  I’ve even tried using saline and I hate nasal sprays.  I’m desperate.  I’m about to use Baby Bird’s nasal aspirator.

On a positive note about the hubby, who can be SO thoughtful and spontaneous, he brought me home some flowers when I sent him to the store for a few groceries.  He also cooked dinner (if making chicken tenders and tater tots is cooking) for himself and Bean.  That was during the nap that I better “remember.”

Here’s hoping tomorrow is a snow day so I can sleep in.  Until tomorrow.

The grim acceptance of inevitable loss married with desperate heartbreak and yearning: this is our saddest ever song.

Download it here.

I think every parent has those moments of comparing children, whether it’s between your own children or against a friends.  Ok, let’s hope others have these thoughts or I’m just paranoid.  Now, let me state here that it’s never this “My child is better than yours” type of comparison.  I often have those paranoid moments wondering if Bean or Baby Bird are doing what they should be developmentally.

I honestly don’t really remember having these type of thoughts when Bean was younger.  They first started to pop up when Bean was 4 years old.  We had the hopes of having her reading before she went into Kindergarten.  I was so used to listening to my MIL constantly talk about my hubby and SIL reading SO WELL before Kindergarten.  I figured that all children were reading when they entered school.  Let’s just say teaching Bean to read was interesting.  Since she was 3 years old, she had books memorized.  Once we started “teaching” her to read, it was really hard to know what she actually knew as opposed to memorized.  When we started working on new books is when we discovered her skill.  I can remember my husband getting frustrated teaching her words, like “dog.”   He would say:  D -OG.  D-OG.  D-OG.  What word is that?   It seemed like forever until she actually could put the syllables together.  In the end, Bean was not a great, more like a barely, reader upon entering Kindergarten.  But guess what?  So were most of the kids.  And once she got the hang of it, she was off and running.  For a girl who pretty much read one word picture books at the start of Kindergarten, now reads at the 3rd grade level…Chapter Books.  Getting on the chapter book reading list for the 1st graders is a big deal I hear.  But now we have a baby and it’s so easy to compare my own kids.

When comparing my girls, baby to baby, these two couldn’t be polar opposites.  Bean came into the world at 7 pounds 7 ounces and Baby Bird came in at a whooping 9 pounds 16 ounces. I can remember Bean flipping herself over at like 2 weeks while Baby Bird laid around like Jaba the Hut.  Bean had great head control from almost day one, while Baby Bird wasn’t much for even being on her belly.  The first time I started to compare and worry is when friends babies were trying to roll over and Baby Bird would have none of it.  Bean was crawling at 6 months, cruising around 7, and walking around 9.5 months.  Baby Bird took forever to roll over and at 9 months, is finally interested in crawling.  I was really worried for a while that Baby Bird wasn’t developing physically at the rate Bean did.  We’ve finally figured out that Baby Bird will pull herself up and semi-cruise if she wants to; she’s too busy playing with her toys and talking.  She has some ridiculous small motor skills and an amazing vocabulary, saying mama, dada, bu-bye, dog, cat, sissy, up, nite-nite, cookie, uh-oh, milk (sign), and more (sign).  Okay, I will give it up to the experts…”Every child is different.”

Now, I just want to enjoy the moments of both girls.  I love the unique squeals Baby Bird does when Bean entertains her.  It’s too cute to see Bean read a book every night to her sister.  There is excitement in the house by everyone when Baby Bird picks up a new word or tries new thing physically.  Funny, but both of my girls are teething right now:  Bean finishing getting her 6-year-old molars in while Baby Bird is still working on getting in that first tooth.  Could it be any better to watch your 6.5 year old feed her little sister?  BFF as Bean always says…

I’m starting to think that I’ve got some sort of weird breast milk addiction.  Why you ask?  Check out my freezer, keeping in mind that I have a 9 month old:

Now let me clarify, I’m not addicted to drinking it or anything.  I’m not that weird.  I’ve got this weird sort of hoarding habit for pumped milk. 

Baby Bird is 9 months old now, strictly breastfed (as in no bottles) and baby food.  I am pretty sure she feeds anywhere from 4-6 times a day.  Everytime I try to remember how many times she ate in a day, I always end up with one feeding session that I’m like, “Did she eat at 2 pm or not?”

After she goes to bed around 8-9 pm, after her last feed.  I end up pumping right before bed around 12-1 am (yes I stay up too late).  I do use the pumped milk for cereal but the rest gets frozen.  I’ve been constantly thinking, “Why don’t I give up pumping before bed and let my body adjust milk production?”  Sounds easy enough to do but I just can’t let myself do it. 

Here are the reasons I’ve come up with:

• What if I get sick?  With a child in elementary school, I worry that I might catch some awful stomach bug and can’t breastfeed Baby Bird.  (knocking on wood right now because vomit is like kryptonite for me) 
• Maybe the hubby and I will take a vacation:  Vacation, what’s that?  We haven’t even taken our honeymoon.  Honestly, I can’t imagine leaving the kids (especially the baby) overnight, even for our upcoming late night ski session.  The extended family thinks I’m weird but since when do I care what people think.
• Maybe I’ll win that ticket to Blissdom ‘10 to be given away HERE by Blissfully Domestic and One2One Network:  HOPEFULLY.  Course, the family would probably head down the same time and I’d be able to sneak in my feeds, I mean, Baby Birds feeds.
• Weight-loss:  Not being vain, but I look good right now.  I’m 130 pounds, about 20 pounds under my preggo weight.  Of course, delivering a 9 lb, 15.6 ounce baby, only gaining 16 pounds, and having gallbladder problems helped burning off my heavily guarded butt and thighs.  I love fitting my size 2/4 jeans, and frankly, I love the compliments
• It all goes back to the beginning of my breastfeeding career:  I had sleepy baby so she was very hard to get woken up to feed.  Top it off, she was a lazy latcher.  But, my baby plan included breastfeeding or pumping/feeding by bottle.  So, we rented the industrial strength pump from the hospital for a month until she got better at breastfeeding.  I went from not being able to pump milk to being able to feed quads.  I had my own suburban dairy going on.  But she got better and so did I…I figured I’m good at making milk now, why stop?

Guess I will make a donation to the local milk bank or see it anyone is looking for a wet nurse (just kidding).  Honestly, I think it’s all somehow related to my love of breastfeeding Baby Bird.  With her being 9 months, I know in the back of my mind, it’s all coming to an end…sometime when she’s like 8 years old.  Just kidding.

It was a monumental day here.  Our first day out of the pumpkin seat and into the big girl seat. 

DUMMY DISCLAIMER:  if you are wondering like my mother-in-law was, yes, she is still facing backwards.  This is our second child and I’m pretty sure we’re doing okay on the common sense, responsible parent thing.

There are many reasons while I’ve pondered the thought of cloth diapering:

1. Cost:  I’ve heard there is quite the initial investment but in the long run it’s cheaper.
2. Badge of Honor:  It would be quite the accomplishment for me, just like breast-feeding.
3. Environmental:  I know disposables leave quite an impact in the landfills considering the impact they leave in our home (BLAH).
4. Potty Training:  I’ve also heard the urban myth that kids potty train faster.  Bean was potty trained pretty quick but no two babies are alike.  Mine are total opposites.
5. Looks:  Course, who can resist some of those covers…minky, ruffled, girlie prints.  Pinchable I tell you.

And on the otherside of the fence would be my thoughts on my cloth diapering may not be for me:

1. Accidents:  Are these things really potty proof in most cases?  Course disposables are not but they are not cloth.  Will my lap get wet?
2. Smell:  What do you do with the diapers after use?  Will I be watching loads of diapers each day?  Hamper separation?  I’m OCD so this should be number one.
3. Convenience:  How convenient are cloth diapers really?
4. Nighttime:  Baby Bird will saturate a 12 hour diaper so what sort of damage will she do to cloth?
5. Confusion:  I really don’t even know where to start on this one.  There are so many options.

So I do know some lingo when it comes to cloth diapering:

• pre-folds
• all-in-ones (AIO)
• covers
• doublers
• soakers
• pockets

FYI:  anyone have advice, tips, product advice, etc.  I’d love to hear from you.  Help me inform those other cloth diaper dummies. 

Speaking of diapers, I’m running low so it’s off to Target.  I guess that’s a neither a pro or con for either type of diapering because the inevitable will happen and you will be out.

It is only a baby but had already mastered the dulcet nuances of a Bulbul’s tweet.

Ladies and gentlemen, Baby Bulbul.

BABY BIRD

The Happiest Man Alive

Baby Bird/import

Att recensera en ny artist brukar vara en smal sak. Man lirar plattan, plöjer pressmaterialet, läser fanzine-intervjuer och arbetar fram sin tes om skivan.

Att recensera Baby Bird är något helt annat.

Det började med att killens första album möttes av helsidesovationer i engelsk press i höstas. Det fortsatte med ett album till bara en månad senare. Och innan jul hade det kommit en tredje CD.

Nu sitter jag och ska recensera Baby Birds fjärde CD-album sedan debuten i oktober, och förvirringen är total. Jag läser en hög intervjuer från den brittiska musikpressen och det är tillräckligt krångligt att hålla reda på vilka album det egentligen är som diskuteras. Men när han dessutom snackar om alla plattorna han ska släppa innan sommaren, då börjar det ryka i hjärnan.

»The Happiest Man Alive« är tydligen fjärde CD:n i en serie om fem, varav den sista kommer om ett par veckor och är Birds första på ny etikett [Echo]. Enligt vissa uppgifter är den också den första där Baby Bird är ett helt band; enligt andra uppgifter ska även album nummer fem vara enmans- och heminspelat, som de tidigare fyra, medan däremot en EP om en månad blir Baby Birds gruppdebut. Samtidigt ska det komma två samlingsplattor med låtar från serien-om-fem-CD, i ett urval som fans röstat fram.

Det sjukaste är att allt detta, som tagit mig mer än en dag att lyssna och läsa igenom, är verket av en artist som fortfarande inte debuterat »på riktigt«. Det han hittills släppt ifrån sig är några högar hemkörda demos.

Steven Jones besynnerliga strategi (»jag har skrivit 400 sånger och spelat in allihop hemma«) skvallrar om en hämmad musikmaniker med Weetabixsmulor i den obäddade sängen och sovrummet belamrat av rullbandare; omgiven av en ovädrad ungkarlsodör av svett, damm och elektricitet; som hoppar över både middag och tandborstning för att fästa en ny låt varje natt på sin kära Fostex.

Med en snygg röst mycket nära Ian McCulloch och bitvis briljanta oneliners grubblar Jones över sin sexualitet och könsidentitet; trots att han hunnit fylla 30 är han fortfarande fixerad i steget mellan barn- och vuxenvärlden.

Men även om låtarna kan påminna om Go-Betweens eller Julian Cope så håller kvaliteten sällan högre klass än andra bedroom wackos som Eugene Chadbourne eller R Stevie Moore. Merparten av sångerna saknar refränger, i stället sväller de över av verser och outron som pågår i evighet bakom Stevens stängda sovrumsdörr.

Bästa albumet i serien är »Bad Shave«. Men lyssnar man någorlunda nyktert på en i förstone favoritmässig låt som »Shop Girls så inser man att om den varit professionellt inspelad i riktig studio så hade den — rent musikaliskt — inte haft en chans mot, låt säga, Elton Johns snyggare soul-schlagrar.

Men med facit i hand framstår Baby Birds fixa ide att själv bekosta CD-utgivning av sina hemstudiodemos som ett bakvänt idiotiskt PR-trick som lyckats. Trots att Steven själv betraktar den ännu outgivna sommarsingeln som sin egentliga debut, har de engelska tidningarna redan etablerat Baby Bird som det senaste årets viktigaste nykomling.

Och nu har också jag ägnat honom ett par spaltdecimeter, utan att veta vad han verkligen går för; utan att ha en aning om vad jag kommer att tycka när han äntligen släpper en riktig skiva.

Kjell Häglund

Grandma Amspacher had a stony driveway that led to a pasture where we played fort among the mulberry bushes that grew over our heads. The neighbor’s yard was a forest where it was always shady and cool, and littered with pine needles, pine cones, and bluebird feathers to collect.  Exiting the forest into the sunshine we followed another stone road, wax paper in hand. 

Along the way we collected golf balls or fell on our sides to roll down the grassy hills. At the end of the road we reached an old Amish barn where we drank smelly, cold, well water from a fountain built into a stone wall. Eyeing the goal, we ran to the giant slide, climbed the 24 tall, narrow steps of the metal ladder, holding tightly to the rails as we climbed.  Like conquerors at the top we’d place wax paper under our butts and slide like a maniac to the bottom and then fly off the end. 

If we tired from climbing the tall slide, we’d run to the merry go round. One of us sat in the middle and the other ran around the edge getting the merry go round started and then jumped and held on for dear life. Sometimes we spun so fast and so long my cousin would puke, but I never did.

On one trip back, we found a baby bird on the ground. We took it back to grandma’s house and put it in a shoebox to save it, but it didn’t work. Grandma said “If you touch a baby bird, its momma will smell you on the baby and abandon it.”

Background:  Baby Bird will be 6 months old in a week.  For weeks, we have been having issues getting her to go to bed.  Scenario one:  She stays up to at least 11 pm, fussing the entire time.  She won’t go to bed with putting her into her bed, co-sleeping, or putting her on her belly.  Typically she’ll finally fall asleep after breastfeeding or a stroller walk.  Scenario two:  She falls asleep after breastfeeding.  She’s put into bed.  She wakes up around 9 something.  See scenario one.

Here’s me:  LALALALALA

Here’s the hubby:  I got it.  Quit freaking out.  Take a Xanax or something.

Finally, the hubby gets to the point that he’s like, “What’s her problem?”  “Is there something wrong with her?”  Honestly, I could care less that she’s up if she wasn’t a crab apple.  Obviously, she’s tired.  She’s rubbing the eyes and the crankiness is a dead giveaway.  I’m like, “Just go to bed then…no one is stopping you.”  At some point, we get her to sleep but not after another night of just frustrations.

Here’s what we’ve been told (my answer in BOLD): 

• Let her cry it out:  I can only take so much crying.  I feel too bad.  We’ve tried all the “methods.”
• No late afternoon naps:   Again, we try but you really can’t just make a baby stay up.
• Cereal:  She has her meals but I’m not fattening her up so she’ll sleep.  That’s a myth.
• Co-sleeping:  Again, requires sleeping.
• Bedtime routines:  We do dinner, bath, walk, read, and boob.  It would make me go to sleep.
• Put her to bed sleepy:  Uh yeah.  Not working.  Wakey Baby.

Any other suggestions?  She’s currently being rocked to sleep by the hubby right now but it sounds more like crying.  Off to another fun night.  Hopefully she’s almost done now.  I know we are.

PS…I thought the big thing right now is not to tummy sleep.  Back sleep only!  But when you google anything on getting an infant to sleep, it says to pat the back.   Kind of impossible if they are sleeping on their back.  Just a thought.

So, don’t we all think our children are the CUTEST!  Well, I’m no different.  I want to enter Bean’s photo in Gap’s Casting Call but I’m having a hardtime picking a few photos.  Here is one I am definitely entering:

But I can’t quite decide between the black/white, color, or sepia school photos below.  What do you think?

Don’t worry…I’ll let you know where you can click to vote for her if you want.  Trust me when I say that modeling would be perfect for our little ham as long is it is no pressure and fun (my prerequisites).  I am pondering put a photo of Baby Bird in there too…can’t do one child and not the other.  Don’t want her cussing me when she’s older.  How’s this for a cute baby….at least to me!

…even a walk at midnight.

Baby Bird is having some going to sleep issues at night ONLY.  And, I might add, it’s driving me nuts.

I’m sure I might get some comments on getting her on a sleep schedule, letting her cry it out, blah, blah, blah.

On sleep schedules:  been there, done that.  We do bath, jammies, reading, feeding, bed.  Obviously not working tonight.  She fell asleep but woke back up in 5 minutes.

On letting her cry it out:  we do try it for a bit.  Honestly, I can only take a wailing baby for so long.  It typically just makes it worse.

She was doing so great last week but last week is history and this SUCKS.  I need a beer!

Baby birds need A LOT of praise and encouragement when they do the right thing. In this video is the baby blue throated macaw I named, Zoey. She is still a baby and just learning how to fly around and use those wings of hers! When birds are so young, they’re naturally curious about flight and trying it out. Just like human babies fall all over the place, baby birds will fall and sometimes end up in places they aren’t so sure of how to come down from.

You can tell from the body language of baby Zoey in this video that she is tempted so many times by the encouragement of her owners, until she finally tries it, trusting that they will be there for her when she makes it down… and of course, they are.

Here a couple of weeks ago I found a baby bird acting kind of stunned on the driveway next to Stan’s truck.  I wondered if he flew into the window and fell to the ground?  At any rate, I scooped him up and hollered to the girls to come look at him and to bring the camera.  Of course, Abby started right in with “Can we keep him”, “He’s hungry”, “He’ll die without us”.  You know the drill.   He allowed us to take several pictures and then decided he had enough and flew off.  I’m guessing he is some type of  Sparrow, since we have a gazillion of them in the barn.  But, he is still cute just the same.

I love Baby Bird.  But, she so needs to quit with these explosions.  I know I have been helping build these breast feeding bombs, but apparently I missed the memo regarding me always being on the clean up crew.  I mean, seriously, does my husband ever get to change a dirty diaper?  They must have some sort of deal worked out that I don’t know about. I won’t ever let him forget our wedding vows though.  I think there was something in there about me dealing with poop and him with vomit.  That, my friend, is a deal!

I’ve also come to the conclusion that partial blame for this explosion can be shared with Huggies Baby Dry diapers.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Huggies Little Snugglers and Little Movers.  But their Baby Dry version is awful.  This is like the 2nd mishap I’ve had with them in the last week.  I do like the elastic compared to Pampers; they fit very nice.  But it seems like their absorbancy sucks and I hate the plastic feel of them.  Honestly, why do they offer them as an option?  They are the same price as Little Snugglers, which are better.  I only bought them because I had a coupon, they were on sale, and they were out of Little Snugglers.  Won’t happen again.

And while I’m on my diaper tangent.  Let’s talk Pampers Swaddlers.  They now offer the Sensitive option which has a line that changes color when wet.  There is no additional cost between regular Swaddlers and Sensitive Swaddlers.  Why don’t you just put the wet line on them all?   Are there people out there that refuse to use your diapers because of the line? 

Okay.  Back to my point.  These diaper explosions are causing me to deal with the awful stains that breast milk induced poop causes.  I know all you breastfeeding moms know what I’m talking about.  Resolve Spray-n-Wash does not work.  I’ve even tried a concoction of Spray-n-Wash with Dawn dish soap.  Doesn’t do it.  How is that possible?  I now just go straight to the sink, rinse with a bit of water, and head to my front porch.  You heard me correct; I hang the cloths on my railing out front to get some sun.  I’d love to know what the neighbors think considering we live in a pretty affluent area.  I don’t really care since it works SO well.

Considering chain link fences and above ground pools are a faux-pas, what would they think about one of these in our backyard?                                   Hey, we are in the age of being “green.”  And in case you are wondering, this photo does not imply that my undies are in need of the sun stain removing power.  I just thought this picture was super cute.  Anywho.  If the sun works as well on my future experiments on stains, I’m will consider the laundry line.  Would it look bad having one of those pulley ones from my second story window to the tree out back?  I like to fold laundry in our upstairs family room.

I know there are a million websites out there with breastfeeding info.  But honestly, they all seem to say the same thing and don’t really give you that “must have” info.  Here’s my take on it all.

The Good:

• Yes, breastfeeding is great for the baby.  It is linked to lowering issues with asthma, stomach issues, obesity, diabetes, and more.
• It’s awesome for mom.  It helps with the contracting of the uterus, i.e. makes you belly go down quicker.  On average, a breastfeeding mom burns and additional 500 calories.  Course, that doesn’t mean you should use it as a means of dieting, but it I don’t feel quite as guilty when I have that late night snack.  I have to say that I’m 16 pounds under my pre-preggo weight, but I did have bedrest, gallbladder issues, and a 10 pounder to help out me out in that area.    You read it right, 10 pounder and I am only 5ft 8in, 134 pounds.
• CHEAP.  And when I say cheap, just the act of breastfeeding is free.  You’re built with all accessories required.
• For the most part, it can save time.  There is no need to go make and heat a bottle.  It’s always the right temperature for baby.  There’s no need to go sterilizing nipples and bottle either.  It’s supposed to be an “on demand” feeding system.
• It is a great soothing and bonding tool for you and the baby.  It’s hard to explain how great breastfeeding feels for a mom because there is this closeness.  I know it sounds cheesy; I’m having this out-of-body experience listening to myself say it but it’s true.  You get this connection.

The Bad:

• It is not easy.  I’m not sure where they get those moms on tv that put the baby to the breast right after birth and all is just works.  Not really the case, at least for me.  I had what they termed, “a sleepy baby.”  In layman’s terms, it means a baby that would rather sleep than eat.  And comes with sleepy baby is about 80 people who want to move your breast around and help you feed.  It never worked for me at the hospital; I just pretty much cried because I was really overwhelmed.  PS…be ready to through modesty out the window. 
• Clogged milk ducts suck.  These are basically little lumps in your breast that are tender.  Do note that you can get those lumps in your breast too when you are engorged.  They are not so fun trying to get rid of and it makes feeding painful.  But, everyone does not get these.  They say prevention is key by always emptying the breast; great concept if your breasts were clear and you could see if they are 100% empty.
• Breast pumps.  Personally, I think this is a must have piece of equipment.  There are way too many options here.  I have used the hand pump, great for working those baby arms back into shape though I felt like giving up after an ounce.  I’ve got an electric double side Medela, which I love.  But again, it is an additional cost but I like to be able to pump extra for the freezer and to help with morning engorgement if Baby Bird sleeps pretty long.  Did I mention how sexy you look sitting there with cups sucking the dickens out of your breasts as your husband sits and watches tv? 
• Touchy subject but I know I googled this a million times:  mustard colored, wateryish, baby poop.  Your read it right.  It was nothing like what I expected considering my first child was formula fed.  I also wish someone told me that it STAINS!  But on a good note, it doesn’t smell to bad to me (sort of sweet) and I find it “typically” easy to clean up.
• Opinions.  Every body has them!  At this point, they do not bother me but they are annoying.  I’ve actually heard family member discussing how they hate to see someone feeding in public.  My MIL constantly says the she’s surprised that Baby Bird has gained weight from breastfeeding.  Seriously people, this has been done by moms for HUNDREDS of years.
• And how does a breastfed baby, who sometimes always seems like they are eating, time it just perfectly that they want to eat right when you’ve gotten your food at a restaurant.  I’ve somehow gotten used to eating cold food or not eating at all…which might be part of my crazy weight-loss as well.
• It is said that your milk supply is an on-demand thing.  It is in a way but it’s not like getting soda from a fountain machine.  You can’t just feed on both sides and then turn around 10 minutes later and feed again.  Of course, tell that to a cranky 4.5 month old.  She just doesn’t get it.  Then, she can be a little lazy and not want to work for the food.  She thinks I should have let down the instant she latches on.  Sometimes she is just such a baby.

The Ugly:

• What sucks more than a clogged milk duct?  MASTITIS.  OMG.  Talk about needing to get up in the middle of the night to feed but feeling like you have the flu.  You ache, you have a fever, and you just want some sleep…but you can’t because you have a newborn baby   It is basically an infection in one of the ducts because you didn’t get all the milk out of the clogged duct.  Again, prevention; again, clear breasts issue.  I had 3 bouts in the beginning of my adventure and think my hospital grade pump and not exclusively breastfeeding were my factors. I was told by my OB that unfortunately, some people are just prone to these.
• Now I know we talked pumps, but we did not talk “hospital grade pumps.”  These could probably make your husband bear milk.  I used to call mine the “dairy.”  It definitely works better than any store bought pump but the downsides are there too.  It made me produce milk for triplets, have a strong let down that I could drown my daughter, and a crazy case of constant engorgement.  Once me and the baby got the breastfeeding down (4 weeks later), we returned this contraption and stuck with the boob/occasional pump.
• We’ve mentioned baby poops but no one mentions baby blowouts.  The consistency of baby poop is way more liquid than formula fed poops.  So, on those fun days, it’s always fun to try and rescue your baby from their poo stained onesie without getting it on their face/hair.  Scissors are sometimes a must.  Baby Bird actually leaked out her diaper, side of the onesie, and onto our cream fabric couch.  If only I could have gotten it in the sun.  The sun is the key for those awful breast milk poop stains.  SERIOUSLY TRY IT!

DISCLAIMER:  These are my opinions and are not to be taken as anything other than that.  Also, looking back at my list, breastfeeding looks pretty awful on paper   I look at them more as just funny life experiences.  If Baby Bird and I finally mastered breastfeeding with all of its whoas, we can do anything.  I would not trade it for the world, even if I got more cases of mastitis.  I always thought it was for liberal hippies but it’s not.  It’s natural and one of the best decisions I’ve made as  mother.  I’m very proud to be a breastfeeder and see now why women talk about it.  It’s sort of a badge of honor.  I get sad at times thinking I didn’t experience this with my other daughter and sad thinking that, at some point, I won’t get to breastfeed anymore.  Guess we will have another one then….

We had a delicate visitor this morning, a gorgeous fall morning in Norfolk County. So much for Indian Summer.

We were able to examine this little guy quite closely, from the safety of behind our front storm door.  I’m sad to report, that the underside of this critter looks remarkably the same as the top-side. But he had an interesting set of little pincers at the bottom, and quite lengthy antennae sprouting from the top of his….head portion. (Trying to use scientific descriptors here)

I took 10 or 12 shots of this guy but alas, my little Olympian camera could only get about this close before losing focus. Even on the portrait setting, which worked quite nicely for the toadstool photos I took in the undergrowth surrounding my Mom and sister’s cottage up north. And I had a tripod, that’s right too. That likely would have helped the auto-focus feature as I was so excited and therefore tremulous.

Goodness, you’d think no wildlife ever shows itself here in the so-called ‘burbs of Simcoe, Ontario! Actually a fair bit of wildlife saga takes place just off the front porch.  This spring and into July, I guess there were too many birds residing in the one and only tree we own, located to the side of our front lawn. It’s an overgrown crabapple type of thing, but it housed about 4 nests in there, and is about 6 steps off the front porch.  Early on the girls found a baby robin (or robin-type bird) in the grass directly below a nest. They pestered me to put it back up there. I thought, it’s possibly a mourning dove baby, either or. As I was dragging the 6-footer out of the carport they also informed me that Dusty, our indoor/outdoor cat, had previously been mauling it. I almost reconsidered replacing the baby bird right then. I pleaded my case with them that Dusty has a habit of crunching down on the bodies of little critters that he catches, as the week before they had “rescued” a baby chippy from his jaws in the back yard. I knew that one had been internally crushed as it was listing helplessly in a small circle while blood dripped from it’s head and stuff. I had refused to foster it in the house and the girls ended up enlisting the sympathetic help of our young neighbour’s parents, and the mom had bundled it up and whisked it off to her house. In the end it didn’t matter how cute that baby chippy was, he didn’t make it.

I reminded the girls of all of this, and stated that under no circumstances were they to bring this baby bird into the house. In the end I agreed to restore it to it’s nest and let it’s mother, should she choose to return, nurse it back to health. About 20 minutes later the bloody thing had fallen back into the grass and of course Dusty had pounced on it again. Suffice to say, once again, all cuteness aside, he didn’t make it.

In July we had a real spectacular show of wildlife saga, also in the front yard under our tree, called Survival of the Fittest, followed by another one of Life’s Lessons.  They are hard to take, but it all boiled down to the fact that I had no choice but to explain it that way. The girls alerted me to the fact that another baby bird was in the grass under the tree and was being harassed by a Blue Jay while being stalked by Dusty. I guess he thought he’d have himself a two-fer, I don’t know.

This Jay was going after this large baby bird, which I pretty much started to think resembled a mourning dove. He was hopping about in the grass, trying to agressively trap the baby dove against the stone edging to move in for the kill. The Jay was harping so loud at the baby, and the baby was squawking and hissing (yes, hissing!!!) with both wings raised in self-protection. The girls were too rattled to approach, but they very much wanted to scare the Jay away. Well, that Jay wasn’t budging. He wasn’t scared of us in the least. When I waved my hand at him to shoo him away, he actually snapped at my fingers.

I herded the girls up onto the safety of the front porch and joined them there. As soon as we were clear an adult dove swooped in from somewhere above, landed between the baby and the Jay, and completely covered the baby with one wing. She was relatively quiet compared to the Jay which continued its racket, and started pecking and flying at her. I thought, oh geez, now the both the mother and baby are going to die right in front of my daughters. I had already sized up the length of that Jay’s beak compared to the dove’s. Even though there were now two of them, they were no match for the Jay, as the mother could not protect both herself and the baby since the baby had very few pin feathers developed yet and wobbled back and forth unsteadily.

Just as this seemingly horrific wildlife situation was about to conclude, as luck would have it Dusty chose that moment to pounce. Both adult birds were startled and took off in opposite directions while the cat engulfed the baby in his mouth and trotted off to the branch pile in the ditch beside the carport. Both my girls screamed and gave chase, but by the time they pried his jaws open and released the bird, too much damage had been done. Although it had passed out from lack of oxygen and its rib-case was crushed out both sides of its body, it likely had died from a heart attack the moment the big orange tabby jumped on him.

Nevertheless, my daughters being the way they are, insisted the baby would revive, and as Jeff (the love of my life) was arriving home from work in his truck they begged him to replace it in it’s nest in the tree. God love him, I don’t know why he did it, but he wrapped the thing in a piece of white rag and gingerly climbed my 6-foot ladder and dumped the carcass into a nest.  Peace at last!! LOL

Lastly, we had to stand on the porch watching the nest for any signs of life. The mourning dove never returned. My daughters had no end of questions regarding this event, and I had to explain to them that sometimes there are just too many mourning doves in the bird neighbourhood, or maybe too many Jays, and this is just Nature’s Way. What’s Nature’s Way mommy? It’s called “survival of the fittest”. Whoever is the strongest and fastest and healthiest will survive….and then there’s Dusty, how does he fit into this? I think it’s called, the Element of Surprise. Oh.

But our little Walking Stick held no interest for Dusty the killer of baby birds and chippy’s. My son pressed a piece of white paper to the back of the window so I could try and photograph it. He remained in that position while my kids filed out the door, forced to leave for school, and as he was passing by the Walking Stick seemed to raise one upper leg and give a short wave to my son. It was cute. And oh, so very alive.

Well, Baby Bird has always been a pretty gassy baby.  Put it this way, she LOVES Target’s version of Mylecon Drops.  It’s like this special “Tear Be Gone” potion.  At her 4 month check up, the doctor was listening to her tummy and asked if she was gassy.  I was like, “Uh, yeah.  Aren’t they all?”  I sort of attributed her flatulence to being a breastfed baby and certain foods I eat bother her.  Maybe it’s the occasional slider from White Castles or the bbq chicken pizza from California Pizzas.  I know what you are thinking, do you really think you should eat that if it bothers the baby?  I do take that into consideration but I don’t think she acts any different with or without it, typically.  But come on, I had gallbladder issues in pregnancy so anything good or tasty was off limits.  I’m making up for lost time.  Plus, I’m like 15+ pounds under pre-pregnacy weight so a few goodies are MUST since they just don’t seem to count.  Now I’m off track, back to the doctor appointment.  She asks me if I eat a lot of dairy, which I don’t.  I just do my typical morning cereal, sometimes for dinner if it’s a fend for yourself night, and a nice glass of milk with anything chocolate.  It’s not like I do a gallon of milk every other day.  She suggested I might try limiting dairy to see if it helps.  Maybe Baby Bird has some lactose intolerance.  UH, YEAH RIGHT.  That was my original thoughts. 

Well, Baby Bird is now almost 5 months (*sniff sniff*) and it seems like she can be very fussy at the times when she is crazy gassy.  This kid can hold her own with an adult.  Well, Sunday night, my DH suggests that maybe the doctor had something when she mentioned the milk.  “Hey, you should try to limit the milk for a week and see how the baby acts.”  So, now I’m using the term DH (dearest hubby) lightly because me changing my habits doesn’t affect him.  Humoring him, I agreed.  How hard could it be?  It’s not like I drink a gallon every other day, right? 

WRONG.  It has been almost 42 hours since my hubby and I had this conversation.  At the time, I was having a nice glass of milk with a brownie.  So, 42 hours since I’ve really had some substantial dairy products.  I did sneak a piece of cheese on my bologna sandwich yesterday at dinner (yes, another fend for yourself night).  I’m seriously craving some milk.  I really want a bowl of cereal.  It’s like my morning staple, especially since I know I’ve got a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch with my name on it.  Last night before dinner, I wasn’t really hungry so I thought that I would have a frozen Go-Gurt.  I literally had a bite in front of the DH before he goes, “You do know that’s got milk in it.”  I totally spaced and forgot.  I put it back in the freezer.  Oddly enough, I NEVER eat yogurt but had a bite of my daughter’s frozen blueberry Go-Gurt and loved how it didn’t have the typical yogurt tangy feeling that I hate.  See how I ended up with a bland bolgogna sandwich now…no other options since I was taking a day off from cooking.

I watched two soy milk commercials last night and wondered if that was my fate.  I guarantee that they don’t taste anything like my beloved milk.  Why else would they keep marketing the chocolate and vanilla flavors?  I can’t be putting vanilla milk on my cereal.  Isn’t that like sacrilegious? 

DH went to Lowe’s with Bean last night.  He was taking forever and I am the bedtime Nazi on school nights.  When they finally got back, he walks into the family room with a small McDonald’s cup.  I know what it contains.  It’s a delicious shake.  I turn it away.  I mean, HELLO, aren’t I not having dairy.  He smiles and hands me a coke instead.  I guess that’s an okay trade.  At least he thought of me.  Had he thought harder, he would have brought me a hot apple pie.  He goes around the corner and pulls a bag out from behind his back that contains a hot brownie thing (new McDonald’s product).  How sweet?  It would be sweeter with milk.  As I’m writing, I’m thinking that I don’t think that I love milk that much, do I?   I think the issue is wanting something that I can’t have.  Sadly, I hope that Baby Bird still gases the same so I can go back to my milk. 

This morning I skipped breakfast; what is breakfast without cereal?  I don’t do anything but cereal unlike my DH who needs PopTarts.  I just got off the phone with my DH (again, using the term lightly right now) who informs me that he ate the Go-Gurt I started for breakfast.   He informed me how good it was.  He’s not seriously rubbing it in my face is he?  I noticed he didn’t even eat his typical, of which I went to the store at 8pm to make sure he had for this morning.  Figures.

GOT MILK?

Yep! Carolina Wren Fledgling...safe landing! *73

 Well after about 18 days the little critters have learned to fly…. a few bumps along the way, but mom and dad keeps a close eye on them and now will teach them all they need to know and soon they will be on their own as they become juvenile carolina wrens….. they will stick together and will be at the feeders even when mom and dad bring the next brood to feed!

And again never ever disturb nesting and fledglings … only photos from afar!

Carolina Wren Nestlings! *72

 Oh my, just look at them hungry little critters! They want more. They will keep mom and dad hopping for the next 12 to 18 days as they grow and become fledglings ready to try out them wings!

Please remember never disturb nesting little critters and always take photos only from afar!

read the story here.

Visit Outdoor Wednesday for more great photos.

.

[buy a greeting card or  a print of this image]

My computer died last week.  Just up and croaked, no warning, no hiccup or freeze or reminder to back up my files.  Fortunately, I had just backed up my files.  Unfortunately, it has taken me the better part of a week to get things restarted and reinstalled and sorted out and working again.  You know, as a side job to everything else I’m supposed to be doing.

So, lots of silence here on the blog-front, sorry about that.  Recipes and pictures and good stuff to come, soon, I hope!

I’ll leave you with the good news–the baby bird living among the grape leaves in our deck arbor flapped his wings last Friday and took off into the big, wide world.  I sure miss that little guy!

Fledge the Baby Swallow

Frequent Photo

The long black stretch of Sleek the cat pointed like an arrow towards him when we got home yesterday. Every muscle in her indicated his presence–a tiny swallow fledgling perched atop a trellis in my jasmines. Sleek licked her chops, beginning the climb towards a delicious feast. If I truly worshiped at the foot of Darwin, I would have ignored the duo and unloaded the car but I couldn’t help rescuing the poor flightless fellow and putting him out of her reach.

My son covered him in a washcloth and we left him for his parents’ to feed…hopefully.  This morning, jaunty and cheerful, he greeted me with a wide open beak.  His strength showed his parents’ had found and fed him. My son kept leaving pill bugs around his feet but I’m not sure these met his menu needs.

This afternoon I went outside to find the perch we had left him on empty.  But I soon found him hopping up on a board.  I scooped him up intending to put him back up high but with a whoosh he flew out of my hands.  At first, he stayed low but swiftly he swept up into the air.  Like a Disney movie, a small group of swallows swirled around him, chirping in joyous greeting. Then they all flew out of sight.

Nature can be brutal but, unexpectedly, she sometimes treats a reverent viewer to magic.

]]>