Feeding the Tiny Toddler

For a few days there, between rounds of antibiotics, Tiny Boy was ravenous and consuming large quantities of actual food (as opposed to "mama ba")  and now he's back to the all-day-all-night nurse-a-thon.  Umm, yeah, so much for trying to wean him to some kind of not-mama-milk over the winter break.

While my mom was here, I did manage to make about a million dozen mini muffins, in all combinations of banana, zucchini, pumpkin, carrot, with some baby food sweet potato thrown in there for good measure.  Also have a stash of sweet potato and blueberry pancakes (thanks Glum Bunny!) that, if LG can keep her hands off them, should last for quite a while.  He likes them, but how many muffins and pancakes can you feed a recently walking guy?

And what the heck milk substitute should I give him that has adequate fat, protein, and calcium, that doesn't come from me?  (I am a-feared that both milk and soy are out.  Well, milk is out, and I don't even want to bother trying soy as he hasn't tolerated any other legume-y thing he's consumed).  Thinking almond, possibly, or coconut.  Need to investigate further.

For now, I need to hunt down LG, who is late to come back from a friend's house, and chase the boy away from the cats...

The Winter Break Blues

I think being at a department meeting would be more pleasant than this.

Tiny Boy still has an ear infection.  Now on antibiotic #4 since November.  Referral to ENT, do not pass go.  We were awake last night for about two hours when he vomited up a bunch of breastmilk (yeah, at least it was only breastmilk).

LG is moody.  Easily frustrated.  I think she's spent more time crying today than the baby.  e.g. We were playing Monopoly (holiday gift) and no matter how many times I explained it, she could not process why $340 plus $260 didn't equal $500.  Crying fit.  Accidentally bought books for the Kindle that she swears were free (let's forget about the fact that she wasn't supposed to "buy" anything, even a free sample, without parental permission.  [yes, parental controls are going ON now]).  Discussion and crying fit ensues.  Oh, yeah, and there was the part of the day when she was convinced I promised her we would go to a museum, when what I actually said was, we'll see what we can do when the baby wakes up.

Argh.

I think I'm out of wine. 

Ironic, in that Alanis Morissette sort of way

So last night, after the kiddos went to bed ~6:00 pm?  And Tiny Boy slept until about 11:00?

Yeah.

At 11:45 my door burst open with a squeak and way too much light and there was LG crying my stomach hurts.  Looking, as she likes to say, pathetic.

I spent the next two hours awake with her.  But at least she's old enough to make it to the toilet when she needs to puke.

Argh.

(The upside is we spent the entire day in our pajamas and watching DVDs.  And, miraculously, Tiny Boy took two naps.  Just waiting for him--not to mention me--to start puking, too...)

Goodnight

Tiny Boy, who took his usual weekend nap of 30 minutes*, was out for the night by 6:00.

When I checked on LG, who'd been at a sleepover last night, at 6:20 she was out cold, next to a giant-sized biography of Abraham Lincoln.

The dishes are done.

Laundry is folded.

The house is, more or less, picked up.

I watched an actual movie.  (To be fair, I only watched half of it, but still.)

I'm guessing tomorrow will start early.  But this evening was delightful.

Goodnight.




* Seriously, that's all I can get out of him.  Crib, stroller, my bed, doesn't matter.  At daycare, by contrast, he usually naps for 30ish minutes in the morning and then 2-2.5 hours in the afternoon.

On Encounters with Psychic Firefighters

We had not one but two carbon monoxide detectors fail this week.  One in the basement, one in the kitchen.

So last night I found myself paranoid enough that my sleeping children would die that I called the fire department, who came out to check.

Obviously everything was fine, but I'll be purchasing new detectors this afternoon.  (Apparently ours expires seven years from the time it is activated.  And I guess 7.5 years later they just STOP.)

But LG was completely wigged out by how the "psychic firefighters" knew her name.  Umm, maybe it's because you have a bunch of personalized stuff.  Or maybe they heard me CALL you LG.  Or maybe we're in some computer system of residents in the community.

Mom, she said, you're a genius.

Snort.

Sleepless Baby, Crabby Mama (And Vice Versa)

I had that PLAN, right?  The one where I get Tiny Boy all night trained before I went back to work.  And I now have 2.5 weeks and, well, nowhere near stopping night feedings.  The kid has been SICK nonstop, not to mention the fact that he's a measly 17.5 lbs at 13 months (which puts him, I believe, at less than the first percentile for weight).  [And there was a chunk in here about him not eating at home but blogger freaked out and I don't want to retype it.]

Anyhoo, I'm feeling doomed.  I'd very much like to seize the time he's home to (1) knock out the rest of his diaper rash (almost!!!) and, (2) establish a home nap routine based on his school one, and (3) CUT SOME OF THOSE NIGHT FEEDINGS.  Really, if I could get him down to 2 well timed ones, I'd be okay.  But right now it's 9:30ish (when I go to bed, so not really a problem) and sometimes 11:00-12:00 and always 2:00ish and 4:00ish (1.5 hrs after the last one) and then 40 minutes after that and then he's just nursing/up for the day.  By like 5:30-6:00, which used to be 6:30-7:00.  Which, in practical terms, means I'm pretty much awake by 4:30 or so.

So while on the one hand I'm like, thank g-d he's not waking every 40 minutes anymore, he's a TODDLER and I can't be all sleep-deprived mama anymore.

I don't remember feeling remotely close to this tired when I went back to work when LG was an honest-to-goodness BABY.  (Her issue was feeding, not sleep, at least not during infancy.)

Yesterday was one of those days I did a reasonable amount of work in the morning and then by 1:30 I realized I was just staring at my computer screen and it was pointless to do anything other than crawl back in bed with a cup of tea and a heating pad.  So I did.  But I will not have that luxury come January.

I am desperately hoping that being home for more than a week with him presents an opportunity to do a crash course in night training.  My mama is, allegedly, showing up for four days (three nights), although I am not counting on that actually happening because of the whole SISTER issue.  (Have I said she's not able to drive right now and my mother is basically her chauffeur?)  If that happens, I can usually count on an extra couple hours of sleep in the mornings...but what I really need is her willingness to play bad cop at night and keep Tiny Boy away from the boobs.

Please.

Rejection

(Quickly: my timer tells me I have a five minute break!)

It's occurred to me more than once that much of my job has to do with giving criticism.  And, much as am I loathe to accept it, my type on the Myers-Briggs personality inventory is INFJ (J, for judgmental).

I am in the process of writing my very first REJECTION LETTERS for a co-edited volume. It's a whole different game than giving feedback to students.  I can't say I like it, exactly, but it's weird to be on the other side of the professional power dynamic. 

Daycare Is Going to Be the Death of Me

Yes, that's deliberate hyperbole.

I love many things about Tiny Boy's daycare (which was, for five years, LG's daycare).

But the boy has been sick pretty much nonstop since he started mid-September.  He's on antibiotic #3 for the ear infection he's had for the past month.  The result is diarrhea and a diaper rash from hell.  And he's miserable.

I've lost multiple writing days, already, because he's been home with me sick, or at the doctor's office.  I've spent too much time going to the pharmacy.  And now I'm doing crazy amounts of laundry on the chance his cloth diapers are infected with yeast.

And I'm fucking tired.

Daycare is supposed to be the thing that allows me to do my job.  And it is, except when it stands in my way.

How?

I am thinking big tragedies, how they happen, how they hurt not only individuals but whole countries, how we go on.

And I am thinking of my own small life and how sometimes the not-sleeping-again baby seems critical.  Like, I won't be able to survive until morning, until the next night.

And how if this is the worst thing going on in my small world, it's a good place to be.

And yet, how to do all that needs doing.  How to do my job and mother.  How to get dinner on the table every night.

How fortunate I am.  How easily all that can be taken away.

How...

A Five Minute Post

I did one of these once (after Maddy) and it was cathartic, so I'm doing it again.  Don't expect coherence.

*

Tiny Boy bit me last night.  And no, I do not mean he nipped me.  He bit me so hard that I just screamed--I think I said make him stop, actually, and LG took that to mean I was asking her to do something, but really I just wanted him to STOP, because even after I put my finger in to his mouth to break the suction he was still clamping down.  Then he was screaming, and I was in so much pain that I almost threw up.  There are still four teeth marks on my nipple.

*

I think we slept for 5-6 hours last night, but I can't really be sure.  I think I need to videotape us while we sleep.

*

The social worker asked me how bright is bright which was rhetorical.  And no I don't think I have the smartest kid in the school or not necessarily even in her classroom, but holy shit, she does not need to sit there and do phonics when she is capable of reading Harry Potter on her own, at age 8.  This is a child who asks to talk about "economics" for fun instead of playing a game.  So we need to figure out a plan because I do not want her to hate school.  Nor do I want her to be the kid who fucks around and gives one sentence answers on tests because she thinks the test is stupid.  And you know, she would be right.

*

Timer just rang.  Pump milk.  Drink tea.  Email for work.  Yay.

Two Weeks

No, not that kind of two weeks.  I didn't run off and have a FET without telling you.  (Actually come to think of it, I don't even know where my embryos are.  Must call Dr. Gorgeous's office.  Anyway.)

I have two weeks left of sabbatical.  There will be some good things in there, like a poetry reading and a writing group meeting and possibly some shopping (maybe I'll buy a bra that feels a little less nursing mama and some work clothes that fit, as I am now wearing a size 0 [don't get me started on the very idea of a size 0]).  But mostly I want to get stuff knocked off my to do list.  I had this crazy thought that maybe I could do everything on my to do list, like putting pictures in photo albums and cleaning out the freezer, and go into spring semester with a blank slate.  Probably won't happen, but it's a nice idea, isn't it?

So now I'm going to stop blabbering and read a student's diss chapter, which is actually quite interesting, even if Heidegger makes my head hurt, and drink some more coffee and go to see LG's school social worker.  Yeah.

In other news, Tiny Boy thinks pancakes are the bomb.  You'd think the boy gestated in a soup of sugar or something.  Ahem.

(Night)Weaning

So:  for the first time in my life I seem to be not producing enough milk for my son (during the day, anyway), as he takes more milk than I pump.  My supply has remained pretty constant since he's been in daycare...mostly about 9 ounces daily.  The lowest it's been is 7.5 (usually when I have my period), and the highest (rarely) is around 11.  For the past few weeks, as he's been eating pretty much nothing in terms of solids, I've been supplementing to get him up to 12 oz, either with my frozen stash or with formula.  (I know he doesn't need more than that, as usually he finishes the last couple ounces in the car on the way home.)

And he's now almost 13 months, and I go back to the classroom in January.  I'm not ready to wean him entirely, but I'd like (1) to stop pumping and (2) to cut night feedings (are you laughing now?).  I think these projects are equally important to me.  Stopping pumping seems easier, though.

Need to decide what to wean him to...toddler formula or whole milk or something else.  I don't keep milk in the house.  Or soy milk for that matter.  Not that I'm opposed to doing it for Tiny Boy, but the whole milk thing is a foreign concept to me, and it's not really clear to me, from repeated attempts at yogurt, if he tolerates milk in quantities greater than baked goods.  It seems to coincide with increased reflux and sleeplessness, but who really knows.

I really need to start this plan next week, as I'll only have two weeks before he's home with me full-time...and then two more before I'm back at work full-time.  Lay your suggestions on me, mamas.

(In response to a few comments, updated to add:)  I'm all too aware that sometimes milk allergic folks are soy allergic [LG had milk-soy/multiple food protein intolerance], and TB seems to have trouble with legumes, so I'm skeptical about soy.  The doctor suggested a toddler formula as a possibility because he's TEENY (17 lbs 10 oz at nearly 13 mo).  The combination of possible allergies and a need for high calories is sort of freaking me out.  The idea of continuing to pump indefinitely....hmmm...

In Which People Are Busybodies

A couple weeks ago a woman I know--her kid is in LG's class--came over to pick up Tiny Boy's infant seat, which she's going to use for the newest addition to her family.  I get rid of old stuff, she gets a carseat, win-win, right?  So we're chatting about nothing much--kid sizes and all that--and she says, "are they related?"  Huh?

I'm thinking, well, no, they're technically not biological siblings but who would ask that?  So I say, "yeah..."  And she says, "I mean, they have different donors, right?"  Umm, again, yes they do.  But who would ask that?  And why?  Just because my son has blue eyes and blondish hair and my daughter does not?  And whoever said I used one donor, much less three, to have my kids?

Then, today, the handyman was here doing a bunch of stuff--including replacing the blinds that prompted the head-whacking incident of July--and he says "I've known you a long time [indeed, he has] and just assumed you were single."  Yes, I say.  "But you have a one-year-old?"  Yes, I say, from the marvels of medical science.  (And in my head:  You know, because no single woman in the history of the universe has even gotten knocked up from sex.)

People are dumb.  But at least I don't have to clean mini-blinds anymore.

In Lieu of Cleaning the Kitchen

Lordy, I hate cleaning up the kitchen.  I generally spend about an hour of my evening doing kitchen chores--washing the bottles (ugh!), dicing food for the boy's lunch, scouring the pots, etc.  I keep thinking my life would be better if I could pay someone to do that, but without a live-in housekeeper (which is obviously not a possibility in my fiscal world) I don't see that happening.

So, the lowdown:

Without going into detail, let me say that things have gotten even stranger with my sister, and she is now staying with my mom.  My brother and I keep chatting about all this, which I think of as The Law of Three Siblings (two are in, one is out).  It's enough DRAMA that I can actually ignore what she did to me and just write her off as batshit crazy, which is probably good.

Still deciding whether or not to go back to therapy.  Most of the time, I think my time and money could probably be better spent.  But when a wave of PANIC hits, I think it's probably well worth it.  I mean, this woman saw me through the DE-or-not-am-I-losing-this-baby-too hysteria of Nov 2010-July 2011.  She's kinda helpful.

Tiny Boy is crabby crabby crabby.  Turns out the amoxicillin didn't do anything for his ears, and he is now on augmentin.  And not sleeping.  And pulling my nipples off with his fifth tooth.

Meeting next week with LG's school social worker to talk about the I HATE SCHOOL phenomenon.  In the meantime, her teacher has proposed that she be recommended for some kind of pull-out honors program, which might be fine, if she actually gave me specific information beyond "please fill out this paragraph about LG."  Oh-kay...

I have less than THREE weeks of sabbatical left (I can't very well count the two weeks my kids will be home with me over the holidays).  I decided to take care of the miscellaneous crap this week (letters of rec, syllabi, reading grad student chapter) so I can have two weeks to focus on my own writing without interruption.

Well, I think I need to go deal with the kitchen.  And then read something.  And go to bed before Tiny Boy's first wake-up call.
 

Well this is new

A student emailed me and asked for a letter of recommendation.

Mentioned the class he was in.  A class with under twenty people, maybe 3 years ago.

I do not remember him for the life of me.

I'm guessing that means his writing wasn't anything worth remembering.  But maybe not.  Maybe this is me being dumb and hormonal and on a long leave.

Hmmm.

So, yeah, I'm 40

Some of the high (or low) lights:

• Lovely lovely, oh my goodness, lovely dinner with 3 lovely ladies.  I had an actual drink.  And I was out until 9:40 at night (let's keep in mind usually I am in bed at 9:40) without my children.  The last time I did that involved a conference, an estrogen level of 1800 or something, and my ex (see Feb 2011).  Ahem.  Anyway, I so fucking needed that.
• Pre-dinner dessert with LG.  Which would have been great except she was surly because, and I quote, "I HATE SCHOOL."  I have emailed the school social worker and will see what I can do about that one, because it makes me sad.  I don't want her to be one of those bright kids (and really, it's not just me, EVERYONE says my kid is bright) who hates school because she's bored out of her skull.
• On the eve of my birthday, I SLEPT FOR ALMOST SIX HOURS STRAIGHT.  Yes, you read that right.  Thank you, Tiny Boy.  Now, if those six hours hadn't ended at 3:45 am, it would have been a whole lot better, but I guess I have to take what I can get.  That doesn't make up for the waa-waa-snot-fest of last night, but we might be making progress.
• I got a massage.  Yay for that.
• I read a chunk of a book.  And a chunk of another book.  And it was good.
• I saw the stupidest resident on the face of the planet AGAIN.  (I saw him the first time when I needed an ambien script and he diagnosed me with "mild insomnia" and told me that I didn't need ambien, I just needed to NOT WORK).  So this time he told me that no there was nothing really wrong with my eyes (despite the fact that they were draining yellow gunk).  I called back a day after my appointment and the nurse talked to my actual doctor and I have an actual prescription for antibiotic eyedrops, which I do not really want, but damn it's nice to wake-up without the eyes gunked shut.
• I puked last night.  I puked up an utterly wonderful and ridiculously expensive dinner because I got the crud from my son and have been coughing for like a week and that's what happens to me sometimes.  So crying baby, puking mama, good times.
• I deleted a voicemail from my sister without listening to it.  (I did unfortunately listen to the second one she sent, as she sent it from someone else's phone and I didn't recognize it on the caller ID, but at least it was only birthday pleasantries.)  This morning I sent my sister an email which was very polite but the gist of it is I know what you did so back the fuck off you lying bitch.
• My mom gave me a fat check for my birthday in part because she "bailed" (her word) on me for the conference and I lost a hefty deposit.  I am thinking I will use the remainder toward the deductible on my psych eval when I return to see my therapist in a couple weeks and winter camp for LG (because apparently my mom is incapable of visiting without consulting with or inviting my sister).  Using it for anything else just feels like I'm being paid off, even though I know that wasn't her intent.  What I really needed, of course, is NIGHT TIME HELP SO I CAN WEAN THAT BABY BEFORE THE NEXT CENTURY but I guess that's just not going to happen.
• So here's to a happy start--and no I'm not being sarcastic--to a new year.  And now I need to go take some more eye drops and eat leftover cake.

A Question for the Masses: What Is Your Perfect Day?

So...Thursday is my 40th birthday.  I'm not quite sure how that is possible. 

I've been thinking about how I might spend the day, always negotiating what "should" be done from what I'd "like" to do.  (And how often is what we like determined by the shoulds in our heads, anyway?)

Some definite things on my agenda:  getting a massage, going out to dinner, doing something special with LG.  Possibly returning to the museum on my own or getting my hair cut (hasn't been done since July) or going to the library just to poke around.  Sitting in bed and reading a novel.

I'm not looking for advice, but I am curious... if you could plan a perfect day, what would it look like?

And Now I'm Going to Write About My Kid

Mostly because I need to get rid of that rantiness of the last post.  I will say the two good things that came out of the ransacking of my office were (1) I am scouring it (I still need to deal with what the messy corner where I have piled things that need to be properly filed, and if LG had actually been successful at her fingerprinting project earlier this summer, I'd have her dust for prints) and (2) I found a copy of a poem written right before my DE cycle [see how "current" that file was?] that is actually worth revising.  Yes, I am capable of turning almost anything into a good thing, at least when it comes to non-fertility-related things.

So, without further ado:

Tiny Boy is on the verge of walking!  He took a few steps a couple times yesterday (he's been cruising holding on to furniture since roughly 7 months and hasn't ever attempted walking otherwise); actually the first time he did it, he tipped over because I called out LG, he's WALKING, at which point he got startled.  And he is chatting up a storm.

Some of his repeated "words":

mama
LG's name (3 different versions, because she's THAT awesome)
da=cat
di-ta (?)=cracker
ba=book
be=bread
mi=milk/nursing (which he also signs)
uh=up
da-die, or more recently ba-bie=bye bye

And there's probably a sentence for "do not stick me in that fucking carseat/crib/high chair again" that, of course, goes deaf on maternal ears.

This Is Not a Small Good Thing (Updated)

I don't know that I've ever been quite so grateful to be back in my own home.

I think I've said I don't travel well.

And it turns out (not surprisingly) that trying to sleep in someone else's bed next to a not-sleeping baby in a pack-n-play is not a recipe for a good night's sleep.

And then all the goodness of the visiting with the mama and the best friend and the baby nephew was undone by a phone call from my sister.  I am so stunned I really don't know how to begin to process this.

See, I wrote some stuff about her.  Not yet published stuff.  (I debated for a very long time about the ethics of doing so and, it this piece is taken, will probably do it under a pseudonym, and it doesn't mention her by name.  The piece itself meditates on the ethics of writing about one's sibling under such circumstances.)

She read it.

Let me clarify:  I did not give it to her to read.  I would never give it to her to read.  I might be many things but deliberately cruel is not one of them.

When she was here for Tiny Boy's birthday I said she could use my office to get internet.  And somehow, she says, it fell on the floor when she was looking at something else in my office that LG had made.  I don't know exactly what she saw, mostly because I can't remember the last time I printed a copy of this thing and it was not like it's at the top of the pile on my desk.  (Maybe I was using it as scrap paper for something else?)

So she's hurt.  And I'm pissed as hell that she went through my stuff.  I don't mind the confrontation about what I wrote--it could actually help clear the air about some things.  But what the fuck?  She said some bullshit about how I'm a writer so she thought she could just read it at which point I said what you did is akin to me reading your diary or notes you kept from therapy and she said something about not doing it maliciously or she wouldn't have told me that she found it.  And while that makes a certain amount of sense...still, YOU DON'T READ STUFF YOU FIND IN SOMEONE'S OFFICE UNLESS THEY INVITE YOU TO DO SO.  IF IT'S IN A PUBLISHED BOOK, THEN FINE, IF IT IS ON MY FLOOR BECAUSE YOU WERE MESSING WITH MY PAPERS AND KNOCKED IT OVER, FUCK OFF.

There was a lot of yelling and unpleasantness.

I spent the first half of the car ride home thinking about the yelling and unpleasantness.  And then we stopped to buy chocolate and that makes pretty much everything better.

I might need to eat some more...


Updated to add:  You know it had to get worse, right?  She lied.  See, my sister leaves "evidence."  Like, she can't get a snack without leaving food out.  So as soon as I actually started poking around in my office to see whatever it was she had seen I stumbled upon an ironically labeled folder "current projects" that is tucked away behind a lot of other shit on my desk that I have not cleaned out since before Tiny Boy was born.  And I only stumbled upon it because the piece is now sticking out of an area that is otherwise clean so it shouts look at me!  Meaning, there is no chance in hell that it was inadvertently knocked on the floor.  She went looking, and she found.  The melodramatic part of me says she is never welcome in my home again.  Not sure when that part will calm down, but holy fuck.

In Lieu of Doing My Own Research

Just curious:  does anyone have an e-reader that might be suitable for a kid?  LG would really like me to get her one and as I am one of those technophobes who doesn't have a real cell phone, much less an iPhone, iPad, Kindle or any other snazzy piece of equipment I don't really know where to start...

Now This Is Weird

Lately I've been noticing that I have a flash of inexplicable, heart-racing anxiety.  Happens probably a couple times a day.

It doesn't start with me thinking about something.  It's purely a physiological response.  Like last night, I'm standing in the kitchen cleaning up and BAM there it is.

And then my milk let down.

I started thinking about those moments I need to pump and I'm not home and I get absolutely panicky.  And then my milk lets down.

I started thinking about Bionic's  observation about middle-of-the-night anxiety and night-weaning.

Just for the hell of it, I googled "milk let down anxiety."  Who knew this was an actual thing?!

Not sure what to do with this info...

Sunday Night Roundup

It's 8:40.  Kids are asleep (well, at least Tiny Boy is asleep and LG is quiet and hopefully on her way).  The house is cleaned up enough that I feel like I can head into the week calm.  I've got a glass of wine.  In a few minutes I'm going upstairs, taking a shower and curling up in bed with a book.

*

Last night was one of those nights when, for some inexplicable reason, Tiny Boy woke every hour from midnight on.  He's "talking" a lot--the other day he was awake from 4:00-5:00 am just babbling--and I wonder if that kind of developmental milestone is affecting his sleep.  Also--and this is weird--I've got my period, and he seems to sleep crappier than usual at this time of the month.  I know menstruation can affect milk supply (and I pump an ounce or two less) but I highly doubt he's that hungry that he needs to nurse every. freaking. hour.  Especially since he doesn't suck for any length of time.  So what gives, Tiny Boy?

But the Benadryl?  Oh my goodness.  Last night excepting he's been waking only 3 times a night--around 12:00-1:00, 4:00, and 5:00.  (Yes, it's absolutely crazy that I think waking three times a night with a ONE YEAR OLD is amazing, but it is)  He's still snotty enough that I feel Benadryl is warranted, and I'm hoping that it's enough to trick his body into sleeping longer stretches.  Clearly he can.  He's obviously given up the early (10:00-11:00) feeding entirely.  If I could cut the 4:00?  Wow.  I think I might need my mom as backup, though, because it's so hard to not nurse when it means--and I know it means--I'm just going to be awake.  But we're making progress.

*

We had a great day.  (Well, other than Tiny Boy screaming in the crib for 30 minutes prior to napping.)  We had a lazy morning.  I did household chores while Tiny Boy slept.  Early lunch.  Then to the new campus museum (LG is geeky enough to love that sort of thing); when we were done walking around, we sat in the cafe and the kids had a snack and if I looked out the window at a certain angle I could completely forget where we were, and it was like being in New York or Chicago or someplace not here.  And I will definitely go back there on my own, both to look at things and to sit quietly.

Afterward, Tiny Boy had a very short afternoon nap and then we walked to the park.  He crawled and giggled; she sat on top of the play house.  We ate dinner, danced to some songs.  He went to bed; she took an ungodly amount of time making her lunch.  But it was one of those nights when everything felt not just manageable but the way it should be.

My mom said something to me the other day about how I had "bad year."  It struck me as incredibly odd and just plain wrong.  Sure the sleep deprivation has been almost unbearable.  And there's been a fair amount of drama, what with the rabies shots and the whacked head and the baby in the ER three times in one week....  but all of that is just ordinary crappy life stuff.  The three years of infertility treatment and tenure drama?  Those were the bad years and some days, like today, so far away they might as well belong to someone else.

I Heart Benadryl

You know how the Benadryl box says all over it DO NOT GIVE TO A CHILD UNDER FOUR?!

Apparently it's quite fine to give to your teeny little one-year-old* when his pediatrician diagnoses him with a nasty cold and fluid in his working-on-infected ears.  And you know what she said?  It might help him sleep.

Oh, internets, I could have kissed her.

It is unfortunate that I do not believe in drugging my children to make them sleep, or he might have Benadryl every night until he is three.  That shit is the bomb.






* all of 17.5 lbs

Argh

Well, I had the best of intentions about WORKING this week.

And yesterday I had LG at the doctor.

And this morning I had Tiny Boy at the doctor.  And having dropped him off at daycare so he will actually sleep this afternoon (as he does not have a fever or any virus that he didn't pick up at said daycare) I have a meeting to attend this afternoon.  That is, after I pick up one prescription and antihistamines for each child and figure out who the fuck will feed my cats over Thanksgiving.

And tomorrow morning Tiny Boy has a long awaited follow-up with the surgeon.

And I'm babysitting M's daughter in the afternoon, because, hell, she went with me for embryo transfer at 5:00 in the morning and took me in when I whacked my head, and it's really the least I can do.

And of course because Tiny Boy has fluid-y ears so much for sleeping longer than an hour at a stretch so I can't really think deep thoughts...and I'm at the place in this book manuscript that I need to think deep thoughts.

Yeah.

Tiny Boy at One Year

Is this like the stuff I paint with at school?

 No definitely not

RBOC Party Edition

• I have truly lovely friends.  This party was sort of like a wedding, in that folks I know from all different places came together to celebrate.  And it was just delightful.  
• I freaked out and thought we wouldn't have enough food (~30 people) and now my refrigerator is crammed with leftovers and I have enough wine to last me until 2013 (which is not a bad thing).
• Oh, that baby loved birthday cake.   And I think he ate enough of it that we can safely say he doesn't have a milk allergy.
• Yay for hardwood floors.  Enough said.
• Apparently when you write "no gifts please" on an invitation you get a lot of flowers: roses, chrysanthemums, tulips, and an orchid (that definitely will not survive my horticulture skills...water it with ice cubes?!).  Right now they are all stashed on top of various bookcases, as my cats have a bad habit of eating flowers.
• Much weirdness with my sister but she did not ruin my party by falling down my stairs (yes, that's happened before) or doing anything else melodramatic.  She was rude to A, but I didn't hear anything from anyone else.  Amen.
• Despite the fact that she is EIGHT LG cannot keep her hands off her brother's new toys.  "He's going to RUIN it," she said of some lego creation.  Umm, yeah, but it's HIS toy, so you might consider letting HIM use it instead of stomping up stairs angry.  
• Poor Tiny Boy is spending is birthday sick.  He came home with a cold on Friday, was drippy-nosed as his party, absolutely miserable and feverish today, and I fully expect to be taking him to the doctor tomorrow, on his birthday proper.
• I couldn't fall asleep last night, despite wine, claritin (to deal with the allergic reaction from the wine), and an ambien.  I dumped Tiny Boy on his grandmother at 6:30 and, thankfully, fell back to sleep.  And on that note...

Musings on Time and My To Do List

So thanks to Glum Bunny whose astute observations made me think about WHY being at work makes me full of rage (and what I can do about it!).  There are some structural/institutional problems there I can't do much to fix, but I *can* be much more aware of how I'm spending my time.  Turns out, time is a much more valuable commodity to me than money or most other things, which should not really come as a surprise.  Turns out I'm resenting all kinds of ways I perceive my time to be "wasted," including my own bad habits.  So in the six (?) weeks I have left before kids are on winter break and my sabbatical is over, I'm saying NO to everything campus related; there's one meeting I absolutely have to attend next week, but I set it up, and it's at the best possible time for me.  Otherwise, it's me and my books while the kids are at their respective schools.  And I will do as much as I can to (a) finish my current book project [which is not actually finishable in the time that I have, but it's getting closer] and (b) get old stuff in the mail.  Because as our "merit review" system makes all too clear, it has absolutely no relation to actual time spent working, just what manuscripts were taken and when they turn up in print, which is often a year or more lag time from the time they were completed (case in point, I first sent out an article in those weeks before LG was born that appeared in print when she was, I think, FOUR).

That's my anti-rage plan, anyway.

*

But, first, I need to make it through the weekend, which involves my Tiny Boy/Tenure party and a visit from my family, which is a great excuse to deep clean my house.  This afternoon I must

• clean the bathroom 
• straighten up the random kid crap
• fetch misc food items from the grocery store
• sweep the downstairs floor (although I am inclined to actually WASH it, I have learned that it's very stupid to do so before a party as it inevitably will end up grosser than it started 

And given that the pumping is done, I'm off!

This Does Not Bode Well

So Dr. Crazy has a label she uses on some of her post that is "work-related rage" (or something very close to that).  I found myself thinking of this yesterday, as I sat in a department meeting ready to explode.

1. Have I mentioned lately that I AM ON SABBATICAL WHICH IS THE ONLY KIND OF LEAVE IN MY DEPARTMENT THAT MEANS YOU DON'T ACTUALLY NEED TO SHOW UP FOR MEETINGS BUT YOUR ONLY JOB IS TO STAY IN YOUR HOUSE AND WRITE?!  Ahem.

2. Despite the aforementioned, I am still adviser to a student organization that requires meetings upon meetings, and apparently now meetings called by my department chair, you know, because he controls the MONEY.  And he is one of those men who really are PATRIARCHS in a very old-school, controlling, sexist sort of way*

3. And then I had to listen to one of my senior colleagues ramble on giving advice about matters which he will not do any actual work and ditto my junior colleague (whom I like very much on a personal level, but she really needs to get with the fucking program or she will not pass her third year review, much less get tenure, and it is quite likely I will be on her committee)

4. And then stay-after-the-meeting meeting went on half an hour longer than he had allotted and I am still a breastfeeding mother and NEED TO PUMP OR MY SON DOESN'T EAT the next day.  At which point I said I REALLY need to leave.

Have I mentioned I got no work done yesterday (other than revising a draft of a poem-y thing on, this should also come as no surprise, sleep deprivation, among other things) because I was at MEETINGS all afternoon?

So other than having a quick (less than 30 minutes, in the office, no less) lunch with Best Professor Friend, being AT work fills me with something akin to rage.  I thought this would have gone away after the tenuring.  And the being on leave.  But I guess not.  I find all this concerning.  And I need to find a new, healthier relationship to my department of I'm going to be very bitter and crabby for the rest of my career here, and that would just suck.

And now I have wasted used fifteen minutes venting instead of working.  A. told me I need to write an academic satire from the point of view of a breastfeeding woman (does such a thing exist?).  I think that is a most splendid idea.  Perhaps for the next time I am on sabbatical.  In SEVEN or more years.

Sigh.



* And, no, although I am (it should come as no surprise to you) an ardent feminist in my leanings, I do not hate men or think they are all patriarchs, and, in fact, if he had not been involved in the fucking-up of my tenure process I really would have been very happy with my previous MALE department chair.  But, really, if there were a picture of a patriarch in the dictionary it would be my department chair.

Yay!

Tiny Boy pointed to the radio this morning and said his word that means I WANT THAT (which is something like "ummmmm?" with wide eyes, usually reserved for whatever scalding hot food is on my plate) and we heard the President talking and I said yay for President Obama! and then Tiny Boy clapped.

Yay indeed.

This is what hope looks like.

In Which Gwinne Explains Reproductive Rights

LG: What's reproductive rights?

Me:  Well, basically it means that women who want to have babies but need help having them, like I did to have you guys, should be allowed to have it.  And women who don't want to have babies at a certain time should be allowed to do that.  It means women should be able to decide things about their bodies.

LG:  Oh, that makes sense!

Me:  But not all people [*cough* Mitt Romney *cough*] believe that.

*

I'm wearing my pomegranate thread bracelet today with my "I voted" sticker.  I'm scared, people.  I told LG we might need to move to Canada...

Small Good Things

Because it is a Monday morning and I am feeling very surly, I bring to you the latest of my small good things.  For the record, I am feeling surly because LG pitched one of her fits this morning--her HAIR was messy, if you want to know--and made us twenty minutes late to school/daycare and I had to run around with Tiny Boy on my hip getting things ready, which prompted her to say I can play with him and I growled I don't need you to play with him.  GET READY FOR SCHOOL AND THROW OUT YOUR USED KLEENEX ALREADY!!!!

Anyhoo...

1. Tiny Boy now has a pair of real baby shoes.  He's been wearing Faux-bees (either Target brand, or made by A. [yes, my friend A. makes baby shoes because she is THAT AWESOME and crafty) and while they are cute, they don't stand up well to the crawling/walking on wood chips that he does on the daycare playground.  So we went shoe shopping yesterday, and he has little brown walkers and LG now has some blue Lands End boots that I got for like 70% off or something.  Yay!
2. Until she had the meltdown this morning, LG has been delightful for the past few days.  She's been helpful with her brother, she's been nice to me, we've been having chats about all kinds of things.  Like I said, delightful.  Hopefully that's the kid I pick up this afternoon, because Meltdown Girl can stay at aftercare.
3. Although Tiny Boy is far away from "sleep trained," he seems to have figured out he doesn't need a feeding at 10:00.  It would be really nice if he could shift his six hour stretch until later (because, for instance, last night he slept from 6:30-1:00, and then woke at 3:00, 4:30, 5:30...) but perhaps we are getting somewhere.
4. I got a short prose piece accepted at a journal.  What's awesome about this is that this is a piece I drafted in like 2006.  And I sent it out a couple times and then let it sit on the computer.  For years.  I sent it out again last year and was asked to revise it to make it longer and I said no.  More precisely, I said if there's a particular direction you'd like me to take this, I'd be happy to consider it and never heard back.  Because, really, the thing was meant to be about 500 words and I didn't want to make it longer.  Then I sent it out again this fall to have it accepted as is.  And I'm happy because, really, it's not my best work but it's one of those things I just like.
5. I am very excited about Tiny Boy's birthday party, which is only partly for Tiny Boy.  It's my 2011-Didn't-Suck-Afterall-Party, in honor of the baby and the tenure and all that yummy stuff that happened at the tail end of 2011, to wipe out the horror of the previous three-ish years.  And there will be about 30 people in my house, which is a good 20 people too many.  But yay!  Now I just need to figure out the cake situation.

Awards n Stuff

First, thank you to CoffeeBlue for nominating me for a blog award.  What a nice way to introduce yourself as a reader...and turn me on to new blogs!  I will confess I suck at these whole blog awards things.*    But I like answering questions, so here goes:


1. What is your least favorite chore?

I think I must say cleaning mini-blinds, which is how I got into the whole Whacked Head with the Fan Incident of 2012.  But more routinely, I fucking HATE cleaning baby bottles.  Really.  I think I hate it more than dealing with poop on cloth diapers, because it takes longer on a daily basis, though that might be a toss up.  I hate them slightly less now that they contain breastmilk and not Neocate, but the job still sucks, and I should probably pay LG to do it, if I thought she would do a decent job.

2. What is your favorite book?

Oh, you know I'm an English professor right?  I don't think I have a favorite book.  Or I have multiple favorites.  Or something.  I just love books.  So I'll change your question (sorry!).  Some books I've read recently that I would recommend:

A.M. Homes May We Be Forgiven (I haven't finished this, but, holy shit, if I'm going to read things I will never teach, I love Homes [although her famous one with Alice in the title I couldn't make it through the first couple pages--sorry!]); John D'Agata and Jim Fingal, The Lifespan of a Fact (might be the best book of creative nonfiction I have ever read); Olena Kalytiak Davis, And Her Soul Out Of Nothing (poems...my students for next semester will apparently be seeing many of Davis's poems if I ever get around to making a syllabus.  ahem).  Other stuff on my shelves:  Carole Maso, AVA; Cheryl Strayed, Wild; Arielle Greenberg and Rachel Zucker, Home/Birth: A Poemic; T.C. Boyle, The Women; Marcia Aldrich, Companion to an Untold Story; Christine Sneed, Portrait of a Few of the People I've Made Cry.  And I'll add The Secret History, Mrs. Dalloway, and The Things They Carried for good measure.

3. If you could wake up tomorrow and magically be successful at a new career, what would it be?

Does it have to be a job that one has actual knowledge about?  Because I think I would make a damn good reproductive endocrinologist (if I didn't have to go to med school and actually do IVF and stuff on people).  But really, and this should not surprise anyone who reads this blog, I would like to be Dr. Gorgeous in my next life.  More seriously, when I thought I wasn't going to get tenure my plan was to go to school to study Library and Info Science (which is probably called something else these days).  I could also be a yoga teacher.

4. If you had to live in a US state other than the one you live now (or other than the country you live in now), which would it be and why?

Four seasons (with snow) is a basic living requirement for me.  Other than that, I don't have many affinities for particular states, though I would prefer never to live in the South again.  I also require a decent public library, a health food store (can't I live closer than an hour away to a Whole Foods or a Trader Joes?!), NPR, and at least one coffee shop.  My first job involved none of the above.


5. What are the name(s) of your childhood pets (if you didn't have any, what about your favorite doll or toy)?

I had a dog named Boo and a doll named Rose (named after Rose Wilder Lane, I'm sure).

6. If vacationing on the moon became a thing, would you want to go? (why or why not)

Probably not.  I'm a homebody.  The moon is far.

7. If you had to pick one food/drink item that you loved, to give up for a year, which would it be (eg, ice cream, coffee, alcohol, pizza)?

Oh, that is just a mean question.  The easiest for me to give up would be alcohol (been there, done that); I've also gone that long without coffee; things that have the wheat/dairy combo (pizza!!!!) are much harder to do but much better for me.  The part of me that was a pseudo-anorexic really should not do elim diets of any kind.  See 2010-2011.

8. What is one of your favorite holiday traditions?

Don't really have one.  I like making latkes with LG for Hanukkah, but it's not like a Big Deal or anything.  When I was a kid I loved that I got to drink out of a wine glass on Rosh Hashanah; I let LG do the same thing.

9. What is one thing little kid you always wanted for your birthday (or other holiday) that you never got?

Oh, this is a sad silly story.  So I desperately wanted a stuffed pig when I was around 8, because I loved Charlotte's Web.  And my father bought me a stuffed bunny.  A little bitty thing which was for some inexplicable reason pink.  And I cut the tail off and the ears off and tried to make it into a pig.  My father had a knack for buying me gifts that were like the opposite of what I wanted (i.e. if I said I hated the color yellow, he'd get me a bunch of yellow clothes) even though he loved buying gifts as a mode of parenting.  And then my grad school boyfriend bought me a little pink pig that was wearing a t-shirt with the logo from his alma mater, which is now what LG and I use to throw at bugs crawling on her ceiling.  You asked.

10. Horror movie, comedy, or drama?

Depends.  Although I would say never horror movie (unless we're talking Silence of the Lambs psycho drama horror) but perhaps sci fi.  Drama is my preferred genre in general, though I haven't really been able to watch A MOVIE in forever; they're just too long. 

11. Beach, mountains, or amusement park?

Beach.  Although the last time I went to the shore (LG was maybe 4?) I got one of those inexplicable instant rashes from the sun and sat around itching and generally miserable.

*  This particular award goes to writers with small followings.  I think mostly I don't read blogs with small followings.  But I also don't think that's necessarily indicative of one's readership (i.e. I don't "follow" ANY blogs but I read a ton...and I know personally I have MANY more page views than I have "followers"...one has to do with reading habits, the other with jumping through blogger's hoops).  So I'll put some questions out there that I'd love for some of my readers to respond to, and if you choose to do so on your blog, please leave a comment here letting me know and I'll put up a linkie thing (now that I know how to do linkie things) and other folks will stop by to read, and that's always a good thing.  Or if you don't have a blog, feel free to comment here w/ your answers.

Some stuff I would like to know about the people who read here:

1. Favorite childhood TV show.
2. Stuff you like to read.
3. Favorite meal that you would cook.
4. Favorite meal that you'd eat at a restaurant.
5. Describe your house.  Either current or childhood.
6. Who was your favorite teacher and why?
7. Favorite class you took in college (okay, I'm lame, but I'd still like to know).
8. Favorite time of day.  And/or year.
9. If you could save any object from a home fire--other than family photos or laptop--what would it be?
10. Why do you read blogs?
11. What do you want to know about me?  Answer it for yourself...

Better or Worse, Earlier or Later

One of the things I find perplexing about baby sleep is the way that baby getting too MUCH sleep and baby getting NOT ENOUGH sleep can display similar symptoms.  Like waking every hour.  Enter my grand experiment.

Last night I put Tiny Boy to bed about an hour later than usual (8:00ish) because we'd been to dinner with friends.  He didn't wake until 1:00 am.  And then he nursed only at 3:00.  Amazing, right?  But he woke for the day earlier than usual (maybe it was 6:00, maybe 5:30, who really knows anymore) and was driving me absolutely batshit crazy by 7:30 because he didn't want to do anything but suck on me and cry.  Diaper change--bad.  Breakfast--bad.  Trying to cruise around the coffee table with a large book and tipping over--bad.  Enter the morning nap.

I really don't get why what looks like a *good* night actually results in a fussier baby than usual.  I mean, I buy the whole sleep begets sleep argument.  I also get that if a baby generally falls asleep easily at 6:45 and spends 11.5-12 hours in bed before he wakes for the day, baby probably needs to go to bed at 6:45.  So what gives, Tiny Boy?

Have I mentioned that I HATE the whole daylight savings time thing?  (I miss Grad School State.  Sniff.  Even it meant walking to school in the dark at 7:30 am.)  Oh, yeah, tomorrow is going to SUCK.

Ambien Is My Friend

I must say I've had very mixed feelings (and mixed results) with my three stints on Ambien.  The first was when LG was about 3.5 and kept waking me for some inexplicable kid reason around 3:00 and then I was just...awake.  My drug happy neurologist stuck me on Ambien for 7-10 days, to reset my sleep cycles, and it worked great for that purpose, although I never got the 8 hrs of sleep promised, more like 5-6.

Then Dr. Gorgeous reluctantly prescribed it when I wasn't sleeping the month before my DE cycle.  I really mean not sleeping.  Like, I never fell asleep at all.  Or I'd wake at 2:00 or 3:00 for days on end.  Worked well enough to get me sleeping a bit better until I switched over to progesterone, which is, in my humble opinion, the ultimate sleep aid, at least at the levels I was always prescribed.

I seem to have found a new use for it with Tiny Boy.  That is, if I've gone days with bad sleep I can take it and be reasonably assured that no matter how he sleeps, I can mostly ignore him.  I'm still conscious enough that I can get up and nurse him if need be and then dump him back in the crib, but I seem to go back into a deeper sleep fast.  So, last night I went to bed around 9:30, ignored his first nursing cry at 10:00, dealt with him around midnight, 2:00 am, and 4:00 am, ignored him at 5:00 and then, happy baby and reasonably rested mama at 6:30ish.  I think I'll do the same thing again tonight, but try ignoring him at 2:00 and see if he can make it another hour.

One of the problems is that most of the "gentle" methods for night-weaning involve setting alarms and feeding the baby before he usually nurses.  Which I suppose is possible if a kid wakes at the same time every night at reasonable intervals...which is just not the case in our world.  But if we can figure out a way to get down to two feedings/wakings, well, I'll be a happy mama indeed.

Thwarted

I knew last night was going to suck when Tiny Boy woke up after just under two hours, instead of his usual 3.5 on the nose.

And suck it did.

He was awake EVERY HOUR from 9 pm-6 am.  Oh, sometimes it was an hour and twenty minutes and sometimes it was just forty minutes, but you get the point.  It's like he knew what I was up to. 

Tonight will be better, right?

Plans!

This probably won't surprise you, but I'm one of those people who likes making plans.  And resolutions.  And new beginnings.

I turn 40 in just about a month.  And in honor of that occasion, which feels like the beginning of a whole new era, I am (1) purging (in the home clutter, not bulimic, sort of way), (2) sending out new manuscripts, (3) finishing up old projects languishing on the computer (I found 3/4 of a double abecedarian and made myself complete it), and (4) SLEEP TRAINING TINY BOY FOR GOOD.

Ahem.

I've decided my strategy needs to be lengthening time between night feedings.  Cutting them cold turkey would result in screaming baby for most of the night.  Weaning to bottles just establishes another bad habit to break.  So last night, I nursed when he woke at 10:30 (I think I'll keep this feeding, or start it as a "dream-feed" to get him more calories), nursed at 1:00ish.  Ignored him at 2:00.  Nursed at 3:00, and this was a protracted thing because when I first put him back in the crib he screamed...when I gave him some more milk, he fell asleep easily.  Nursed at 5:00ish and 6:00, because I thought he was waking for the day, but SURPRISE he went back to sleep until almost 7:00.  So that was a minimum of 2 hrs between feedings.  I'll do that for another day or two and then go to 2.5 hrs and so on.  My goal is to have a feeding at 10:30-12:00 and then not until 5:00 (and eventually 6:00).

Yes, you can start laughing now. 

Tired Frustrated Confused

(or, my weekly whining session about sleep)

Because it was a Bad Nap Saturday (~1 hr 10 min total, instead of the 2.5-3 he'd have at school) I put Tiny Boy down by 6:30 last night and he was asleep a few minutes later.  Woke up around 10:45, squawked for a bit; I nursed him and we were both back to sleep.  Didn't nurse again until around 2:00.  Yay, right?

And then he was awake an hour later and couldn't fall back to sleep.  I gave him motrin in case it had anything to do with teeth.  Checked his diaper.  Finally rubbed his back until he fell asleep in the crib.  And he was still awake around 4:00 and around 5:00 and up for the day sometime around 6:00, although I ignored him for a while.  I'm that tired right now; I just couldn't manage to start the day, even if it meant listening to a baby yelling at me from across the bedroom.  And then I nursed him, gave him some toys, put a light on, stuck him back in the crib and ignored him some more.

I just don't understand what's going on.  The waking every couple hours to nurse?  That's likely a bad habit.  The waking every hour after he's started off great?  Well, that seems to be something else.  He's uncomfortable...and I just can't figure out why.

Tiny Boy Speaks!

I remember it being very obvious when LG learned a word.  At 10 months, she could say "mom-mom" (in a meaningful way), "at" (cat), as well as her own name.  Other words followed quickly; by 17 months she was speaking in "sentences" like "park, walk, bye bye."

Tiny Boy is more elusive.  Sometimes both LG and I think he said a word, but then he never does it again.  Or it changes.  We've diagnosed three different ways he says her name.  He says "mama."  He may or may not be saying "boop" when he wants to nurse; more often, it's a "muuuuh" sound or "mamamamama."  We think he says "da-die" for "bye-bye."  And "dat" may or may not be cat, and "ma" may or may not be the name of IVF Kitten (whose real name is, of course, NOT IVF Kitten).

But for real, without a doubt, he said "ba-ull" for "bottle" the other day.  I was holding him on my left and putting bottles together on the right.  And LG said "MOM!  HE SAID BOTTLE!!!!"  And then he did it again, and then he tried to flop over to nurse.  So that may or may not be his first word.

There's a brain in there!  And it works!

In Lieu of Actual Work

I'm having trouble this week getting work done.

And by "work," I refer to the book manuscript I am supposed to be working on.  I started a new chapter this week, and I think I am not ready to write it.  I think I need to do some more reading in order to take an article-length thing and make it a chapter-length thing, with a very different style.

And then there's the whole Tiny Boy Doesn't Sleep issue.  Not sure why he went those LONG stretches last week and now is back to the madness.  Like, last night, he was talking to himself at around 2:00 in the morning and then almost an hour later a cat came into the room and then he was like I want out of this crib NOW and as I went to nurse him AGAIN it occurred to me that he smelled bad and, yes, I had to change a poopy diaper somewhere around 3:30 in the morning.  And then he still woke up in the 5:00 hour to nurse.  I think.  It's all hard to remember.

And this week the JOB is also interfering with work.  I was at a meeting yesterday.  And I had to pick up refreshments for a reading tonight.  And then I'll have to drop them off today and then show up tonight to actually do the event.

And this has been the week of home-repair estimates.  Trees must be yanked.  Roof must be repaired.  Ceiling fans need to be properly secured so they don't freak me the fuck out anymore.  Yadda yadda yadda.  Yay for my tax refund.

I think now maybe I will take a shower.  And clean something.  And then maybe I'll have figured out something to write.  Just in time to go to campus.

My Life as a Cow

I am pumping more milk.

Like, when we started this daycare thing I was pumping generally 8 oz.  And then about 10 (and about 1 ounce of that kept coming home).  And now closer to 12 (though when I sent that much yesterday, he only drank about 9).  I'm pumping for basically the same amount of time and at the same times of day.

He still nurses like a fiend when I am available.  (And, heaven help me, I think his word for nursing might be "boop." Although I always ask him if he wants "mama milk," I have been known to say things like "I need to boob the boy" in his general presence.)  He seems to be eating more table food; apparently the kid likes carbs as much as his sister.  Graham cracker?  Apple cider muffin?  More!  More!  More!

So what's with the extra milk?  Is my supply actually going up?  Or is he simply taking less because he is, uhhh, starting to wean?

The Elusive Nap

I am not sure what to do about Tiny Boy and naps.

It seems to me that he is not biologically/developmentally ready to give up a morning nap.  When my mother was here, for example, he was taking hour long morning naps (in the stroller) and still taking 2-2.5 hr naps at daycare in the afternoon.  Now, granted he was seriously overtired, but still.  Then when he was home sick last week he took a 40-min morning nap (in the stroller) and only a 20-min afternoon nap.  Yesterday, he took NO morning nap and only a 30-min afternoon nap.  This morning, he fell asleep (in the stroller), woke up about 2 minutes later, clearly not comfortable; we nursed in the rocking chair and he fell asleep, then tried to roll over.  I transferred him to the crib and...no nap.  By comparison, most daycare days he naps for 2-2.5 hrs in the afternoon and occasionally 30-40 min in the morning; according to his caregiver, it's as simple as dumping him on the cot and patting his back for a minute.  No crying, no nonsense, sleeping baby.

So it seems to me the problem is not the need for a nap (and I don't really care if his naps are split across two) so much as not finding the right way to nap at home.  Did I mention that we even borrowed a cot from daycare?  Yeah, fun to play on, no interest in sleeping on it.

Right now he's up in the crib, crying, having almost fallen asleep nursing.  I figure if it works at night, well, eventually it should work during the day.  Except 5 days of the week, he's got a different routine that I can't possibly replicate at home.  Unless I can borrow half a dozen toddlers, too.  Grrr.

1:20 am

That's when Tiny Boy first woke to nurse last night.  That is, a full SEVEN HOURS after I put him down. 

I kept looking at the clock to make sure that was right.  And the breasts concurred.

I nursed him and put him back and then listened to him jibber-jabber in the crib for half an hour about that most amazing subject dadada.  Not sure if he was talking in his sleep, as he certainly wasn't protesting his incarceration.  Then, not a peep out of him until almost 4:00.  And then 5:30.  And then we snuggled and nursed around 6:30 and he might have gone back to sleep if I hadn't turned on the light.

Yes, folks, I am incredibly grateful to have an 11-month-old who ONLY woke three times last night.  And the night before.  And I know in writing this I risk it not happening again.

But even with the eye gunk and the cough, he's sleeping.  Is the Prevacid really working that much better than Zantac (it IS the kind of drug that takes a couple weeks to have full effect)?  Is it the new white noise box (I'd tried white noise on the laptop and that never worked)?  Is 17 lbs some magical sleep-in-longer-stretches baby weight? 

Whatever it is, I'll take it.

Sick Day

Well, Tiny Boy stayed home from daycare today, as he had the eye gunk and a fever.  Eye gunk turned out to be an infection of the eyelids, and he would appear to have some kind of virus to boot.  Which, of course, he has shared with me, along with some gnawed-on teething biscuits.

He's been in daycare I think a month now and has had two colds, a bout of diarrhea, eye gunk, and this new virus.  In his previous ten months he had two colds, despite having a school-aged sibling and being a teeny-tiny winter baby.  I am not looking forward to this winter.

He's been fever-free today, so my current plan is to take him to daycare and then have a sick day of my own  It might not be room service at a swanky hotel, but some goodies from the bakery, lots of hot drinks, my laptop and a not-really-for-work book sounds mighty nice.

But the best news?  He SLEPT last night.  Not sure if it's the new white noise machine or the illness or what, but he only woke three times (12:30, 3:30, 5:30) and didn't get up for the day until 6:45.  I'm desperately hoping for a repeat...

Insert Expletive Here

Umm, yeah, so I was carefully weighing all those great ideas y'all had

and then I got a call from daycare:

Tiny Boy has gooey eyes, which either means a sinus infection (ugh!) or pink eye (ugh!) but either way, we're staying home.

Cancelled reservations, can't take it back, done.

But I will think about a way to divide up my ice cream and my toppings and maybe have a deconstructed ice cream sundae some other way...

I do think the universe has it out for me.

I Like Ice Cream (a Metaphorical Pro-Con List)

I'm still trying to decide if I just take the kids and go to the conference, however challenging and stressful that would be.

See, I like ice cream.  Let's say, a full-fat, expensive carton of Ben and Jerry's.  I like Ben and Jerry's enough to make myself sick from a dairy overload.  I am not willing to eat a rice-based substitute that tastes like crap but doesn't give me a migraine or a stomach ache.*

That is, I was looking forward to the full experience of the conference.  I wanted to give my paper.  I wanted to go to sessions.  I wanted to hole up in a hotel room all by myself and do my usual conference-going things like painting my toenails and taking a long hot bath and ordering room service and then going to sleep (I mean I was even considering taking Valium just so I'd be sure to be really and truly knocked out, as I often don't sleep in hotels).

And now I can't do that.  I could have the half-assed, half-calorie version, where I do my paper and stay in a swanky hotel with my kids, which would mean letting random conference folk help out (yes, the hotel probably has a babysitting service of some kind but that would freak me out way too much to even consider) and LG having a blast while Tiny Boy and I sleep miserably, even more miserably than we do at home, not to mention the two days in the car with screaming baby.  Sounds fun, doesn't it?

Or I can stay home and be generally resentful that I'm not getting my carton of Ben and Jerry's.  The first carton of Ben and Jerry's since the week before egg retrieval.

Or I can take a friend up on her extraordinarily generous offer to try to "time-share" my kids with another friend (friend #2 hasn't yet consented to this) so I could go solo which is so FUCKING AMAZING and generous that it's making me cry but I can't take her up on that offer, even if it means SLEEP.  And if this were a real job-on-the-line professional event, I would do it, but it's not.  It's a carton of Ben and Jerry's.

Which leaves me contemplating whether I want the rice milk ice cream, just so I can say fuck you, I did it on my own.  And ice cream rarely tastes good with a side of spite, if you'll excuse all the metaphorical mix-ins.





* Yes, I eat coconut ice cream.  And love it.  But let's stick to the metaphor.

Blogotherapy (Crazy Sibling Edition)

Oh, internets, talk me DOWN.

I will say now that I will probably erase this post, as this is really one of those un-postable things in which I reveal WAY too much about myself (yeah, ironic, I know given how much you know about my ovaries).

So long story somewhat shorter:  I think I am not going to the conference this weekend, for reasons that really have nothing to do with me and Tiny Boy.  My mom was supposed to be my childcare and she can't because my sister is being my sister.*

That is, she's currently hospitalized for psychiatric reasons.

And I'm angry.  Like, seething fucking angry, which I realize is NOT the way one is supposed to act when one has a sister in the hospital, and I sort of hate myself for that.  But there's a huge pattern here that goes back, well, my entire life.

And having two children now I understand completely the impossible, absolutely impossible, position that my mother is in.  And I suppose in her situation I'd probably make the same choice.  And I know, I know, I know, that my mother has helped me in countless ways, including helping me out last week.  But the bottom line is, it is ALWAYS about my sister.  Even when it's about me, it's about my sister.  (i.e. My mother comes to visit because I'm having a fucking miscarriage and she gets a call about my sister.)

So my mom has proposed an absolutely STUPID plan, in which she watches the kids at her house (which is, like, five hours the wrong direction, which would add basically TWO DAYS of travel time for me to get to the conference and back) just so she doesn't have to make this choice.  And I get it.  I totally get it.  But I will not do that to her, myself, or my kids.  My sister wins.  The End.

It is probably worth paying $100 out of pocket for me to go see my old therapist.


*When I stop seething, I'll think about other ways I might be able to swing going.  But, of course, if I'd thought of any of those options, well, I wouldn't have asked my mother to watch the kids in the first place.

An Hour of Quiet

Tiny Boy is, I believe, asleep.

LG is watching Harry Potter at a friend's house and not expected back until 8:00 (which is her bedtime).

Laundry is laundrying. 

So I have an hour (well, about 50 minutes now) to MYSELF.

I could clean.
I could read.
I could watch TV.
I could make oatmeal cookies.
I could practice wet-into-wet for my watercolor class.

Hmmm.  I think I'll split the difference.  But start with the mess in the kitchen...

On Formula Feeding

Someone tell me why I dislike formula so much.

I mean, I really don't care what you feed your baby, but I hate giving my baby formula.  And I say that as a mother whose first kid needed the most extreme of all formulas, and drank the shit as primary source of nutrition until she was two.

Yes, that might have something to do with why I don't want to give Tiny Boy formula.  But, as I rationalized to A last night, he's not pure any more.  He's been tainted with all kinds of foods, including cinnamon bread.  And even my own milk has turned into quite a pharmaceutical concoction with the ambien and all.

But, I did it.  (Nutramigen, in case you were wondering.)  And I sneaked about 3/4 oz in each of his bottles for daycare, banking 4 oz of breastmilk for the freezer (in Tiny Boy's world, that's a whole bottle).

I'm not entirely sure I will follow through on the ditching-the-baby plan, but I'm taking some tentative steps...

Life on Sabbatical

If I were teaching this semester this would be just about midterm.  So I thought I'd take a moment to take stock of things and see how my sabbatical is winding up (or down?).

• Despite the whole NOT SLEEPING thing (not to mention Tiny Boy's surgery that happened the first week of the term, and the aftermath that lasted another following week and then not starting regular full-time daycare until nearly a month in) I've actually managed to stay on top of my writing deadlines.  I am not all YAY, MY CHAPTER IS AWESOME or anything, but I've churned out enough (not crappy) pages to be happy.  I've also done a good chunk of work on a conference paper that is also a revise-a-bit-and-resubmit that sounds very promising (deadline around Thanksgiving) and started a few smaller things.
• I think I've struck a reasonable balance between showing up for campus events (like a friend/colleague giving a talk) and staying the fuck out of the department.  Perhaps doing a bit more than I should, but I've also been on various forms of leave for a year, so I'm not completely burned out.
• I'm also aware that I want to keep this not-burned-out state, as I was incredibly angry (all that tenure debacle bullshit) and very tired (10 years as an assistant professor, across my two jobs, and then that whole fertility treatment + high risk pregnancy + new babyness) going into sabbatical.  So:  I'm probably watching a bit more TV and reading less than I "should," but, you know, by the time 8:30 rolls around and I've been awake for a minimum of 14 hours, well, I'm not really capable of coherent thought.
• I am having a very good time in my painting class and I really hope to carve out time when I'm not on leave in which to paint (which probably means giving up TV, but that will be okay).
• There's a whole lot of domestic stuff that doesn't get done:  i.e. I have a list of various home repair projects (a new roof!  tree removal!) that require simple phone calls I put off day after day.  My lawn hasn't been mowed since, like, July (it grows freaky slow, but still).  Other than during pumping sessions--hooked up right now--I really am trying to WORK during the day.
• I also had these great ideas like I'd get all Tiny Boy's pictures in albums and I'd de-clutter the entire house and clean the garage and cook all kinds of new things and, you know, mostly that stuff isn't getting done.  But I hardly feel like I'm wasting my time.  There's just only so much I can do.  And, frankly, that sort of scares the crap out of me for what might happen when I go "back to work" in the spring.  I mean, if I can't manage to call a roofer, how the hell am I going to grade all my students' work?  And am I seriously going to talk to my department chair about becoming an administrator for my major program?  Am I that stupid?  Perhaps I am.

But you know, I'm tenured.  I'm not in the throes of fertility treatment or pregnant (and when you add it all up, well, that's about half of the past decade).  I'm something resembling happy.  And really it will all be okay.  So long as I have a prescription for Ambien.  Sigh.

Milky Problems (II)

So I've got that conference coming up, and I still don't know what to do.  Some thoughts:

1. I counted a mere 13 packets of milk in the freezer.  To the best of my knowledge, they contain 3-5 ounces each.  So, let's say there might be 50 ounces of milk.  That's probably about half of what Tiny Boy would need over the course of 3 days.
2. Formula might be a possibility.  But (a) I don't want to risk him not taking it and (b) given that he may or may not have a problem with dairy (and he's had NO soy exposure, as I am allergic) I'm not sure I want to mess with it and introduce yet another complicating factor into an already complicated night-time situation.
3. But.  If I could manage to leave him, (a) I might sleep and (b) he might actually start the process of sleep training with his grandmother.
4. And the conference would be more enjoyable without the family tagging along.
5. But I would miss him and worry about him (yes, I miss LG, too, but she's 8 and, well, I've left her for conferences since she was Tiny Boy's age and somewhere around age 4 it stopped being A BIG DEAL).

Gee, this is almost as complicated as choosing an egg donor.

snort.

Night and Day

Well, last night sucked.  But today has been good.

I'm not sure if it's the Prevacid poop or the immanent emergence of tooth #4 but last night saw the return of the all night suckathon.  Really.  I could not get him in the crib at all, after he woke inconsolable a mere hour after going to sleep; after that, he wouldn't sleep without my breast in his mouth.  I let him CIO when he decided, despite a horrible sleepless night, that 5:30 was a reasonable time to start rolling over me and babbling and smacking the window.  After an hour of crying, we both slept for another hour, and LG was late for school (oops!).

I'm giving it until tomorrow and then I am (a) calling his pediatrician to discuss this phenomenon and perhaps getting a referral to a ped GI and (b) putting one or both of us on probiotics (anyone have experience with this?).

But it's a work day, and I have energy, and I've gotten plenty done.  1000 words on the book; plus another chunk on the conference paper; read and took notes for tomorrow's writing session; come up with a list of places to submit things that have been languishing on the computer for far too long; taken a walk; pumped twice; started a load of laundry and put away the previous two.

Things not accomplished:  renewing library books (stupid electronic system kept freezing up), bill paying (tonight!), washing breast pads (I use the utterly expensive and comfy wool variety).  I also collected some leaves that I'd like to paint, as I have not managed to practice for my painting class, so perhaps that will happen tomorrow.

Now I've got to cook something quickly and pick up kids.  I'm starting to crash...

The Paradox of the Older Child

Why is it that LG can be enormously helpful

and yet when she's not home things are a zillion times calmer?

Well, now this is shitty

Yes, I mean that literally.

Over the course of the week, Tiny Boy's poop has gotten increasingly disgusting and diarrhea-like.  And indeed, this morning I was looking at one of those mucousy green concoctions that landed LG at a pediatric GI's office and eventually on Neocate.

Coincidentally-timed virus?  Perhaps.  But Dr. Google confirms that poopy problems can arise from Prevacid.

You know, the drug that let my son sleep last night.

Really.

He went to bed at 6:45 (?) and woke for the first time at 11:30.  And then I don't recall hearing a peep out of him until somewhere around 4:00 (of course, he was in my bed, but that's another story).  If I am remembering this correctly, well, that might be the best he has EVER SLEPT IN ALMOST 11 MONTHS.

I'll give it another couple days.  And cram bananas down his throat.  But, please, don't let it be the medicine...

Something Resembling Sanity

Well, folks, my mama just left us.  I wish she could stay for another few nights, but she has a life, too.

I'm nowhere near rejuvenated but I also feel like I can go into tonight and be okay.  We talked about it, and while it would have been best for me just to leave and sleep in a hotel, I wasn't sure how it would go for Tiny Boy.  In the end, we took a compromise position that got us both some more sleep than we were getting.  I slept downstairs, my mom stayed with him, and she brought him to me to nurse.  Then around 5:00 am we ended up switching, and I managed to fall back to sleep until LG needed to get ready for school.

Some things learned:  (1) Tiny Boy really does have digestive issues of some kind in the night.  Prevacid is helping (the 40 minute stupidity didn't start until about 4:00 am, instead of the beginning of the night), but he's really gassy.  He actually ended up pooping around 3:00 in the morning one night.  Not sure what to do about that.  (2) My mom also confirmed his sleep patterns for me (and really I consider the past few days to be back to baseline for the most part):  he goes a roughly 4 hr stretch, then 2.5-3, then 2, and then all hell breaks loose around 3:00 or 4:00 am.  He's fussy, inconsolable, etc, nurses and still won't go back to sleep comfortably or easily. (3) He prefers to sleep in the crib, and, other than wanting to nurse, will go back to sleep with some mild back rubbing. 

And then there's me.  The main problem that surfaced in the past week was that my old insomnia coupled with the mommy sleep deprivation.  So I had trouble falling asleep and then once woken couldn't go back to sleep.  Ambien is not a great drug for me, though I experimented taking it different ways, at different times, and last night seemed to work best (taking it at 11:30, in one dose instead of halved).  I don't want to be on it long term, so I need to get in to see my primary care provider to talk options.

Need to get a bit of work done this afternoon... I'll let you know how it goes tonight.

Mama to the Rescue

When Tiny Boy wouldn't stop fussing last night at 10:30, after nursing, my mother rubbed his back until he felt asleep.  And then I did, too, doped up on Ambien, knowing he was safe.

And I'm sure she would have done the same at 3:30 except it didn't seem worth waking her.  We snuggled up and fell back to asleep.

She did put him down again at 5:00 and took him when he woke at 6:00 for the day, and I managed to sleep until 7:30 (having taken an illicit second 1/2 dose of ambien, which I figure is fine as I was prescribed half the usual dose anyway).

And now she's fake walking him so he can get in a morning nap before daycare.

Let's be clear:  I do not feel rested.  But that's probably the most uninterrupted sleep I've had since I whacked my head in July.  Mothers really are awesome, especially when you are almost 40.

Problem Solving for the Sleep Starved Mama

All kidding aside, I do think we've reached (I've reached) a crisis-level of sleep starvation.  Like, I'm aware that I'm doing everything in slow motion.  Even typing is challenging.  I probably shouldn't be driving a car at all.  So:

1. Tiny Boy's pediatrician called me back personally last night and called in a prescription for Prevacid (instead of Zantac).  We talked about melatonin, and she's reluctant to use it on such a small guy.  But she said if the Prevacid doesn't work we can talk about other things.

2. My mother is going to stay with us for "a few days."  I do think I want to check into a hotel, but I don't think I will if her solution is to let Tiny Boy CIO all night.  I say this because I think right now the goal needs to be doing whatever needs to be done to get us both more sleep, and the training can come a bit later.  He's also actively teething, might be getting a cold, and had a flu shot this morning.  So we'll talk.

3. I am still waiting to hear back from my ob/gyn's office about me taking ambien (and them prescribing me ambien).  While I don't really like it, I do fall asleep and stay asleep for about 6-7 hrs straight.  Which is less than ideal but so much better than I've slept in the past 10.5 months that it won't really matter.

4. I was planning on taking Tiny Boy (and LG and my mom) with me to a conference in a couple weeks.  Now I am thinking that if I can get a large enough milk stash (how much would he need, over about 4 days? 100-120 ounces?) I'll leave them behind.  Because that's 3 nights in a swanky hotel and I might just be able to relax (and self-medicate with valium or something if I can't).

Thank you for all your support.  It does mean a lot in those wee hours.

Sleep Starved

Thanks, Misfit, for that term.  I am indeed sleep starved.

Unfortunately I'm not doing better today.  Actually I pretty much cracked after another night of waking every 40-80 minutes (he wakes with EVERY sleep cycle, so it really doesn't matter if he can put himself to sleep or not--I mean, he CAN and sometimes does--he's still waking me.  And, yeah, I can hear him if I'm on the couch downstairs.

I was hoping I had some leftover pre-transfer ambien in my drug stash, but apparently I got rid of that along with the extra lovenox.

So tomorrow I'll call his pediatrician and see if we can get a referral to a sleep specialist.  If we can't, I might need to get a new ped.  And if I have another night like the last few, well, my mama has graciously volunteered to come up and stay with us for a few nights.  And I'll be checking into a hotel.

Well that worked fucking great.

I am not kidding when I say he woke up EVERY FUCKING HOUR FROM 7:00 PM TO 5:00 AM.  And then he just flat out wouldn't go back to sleep after 5:30.  Not nursing.  Not in the rocker.

So fuck sleep training.

On Monday I'm calling his pediatrician and I want either (or both) the recommended dose for melatonin for babies or a referral for a sleep study.  Because you can't sleep train a chronically sleep deprived baby as a chronically sleep deprived mama.  And this is not a behavioral problem.

The end.

An Update with a Little Less Drama

Mostly this is for me to keep track of how things are going, but feel free to comment and advise.  I will say that one thing that is EXTRAORDINARILY frustrating about most websites and books devoted to sleep is that solutions all take time.  Or require--that is, go better--with a second adult (i.e. I can't just let a partner deal with Tiny Boy in the middle of the night so the breasts are unavailable).  And, really, although I recognize that LONG TERM things might go more smoothly if I do x, y, or z, sometimes my short term really is whatever works NOW, which, of course, is why we're where we are at 10.5 months.  Anyhoo...

Last night:
Bedtime 6:40 pm, asleep within a few minutes as far as I know
First waking 10:00something....I'd benadryled myself and ignored him and we both fell back to sleep
Second waking 1:00ish...nursed and dumped cribwise without a problem
Third waking 3:00something...ignored him and he fussed/whined/cried for about an hour
Fourth waking 5:15 or so...nursed him
Morning 6:15...nursed and he might have gone back to sleep for a few minutes; clearly  needed MORE sleep

This is all really typical.  The only difference is I didn't nurse at 10:00... but that last half of the night he seems to need something from me...would he have slept better if I nursed him at 3:00?  He wouldn't have cried, but he probably would have woken up in the 4:00 hour, as well as 5:00, instead.

I was hugely engorged and actually leaking when I woke up, so it's pretty clear to me that he does take in a HUGE amount of milk overnight.  I'm not saying that's a good thing, but unless his intake increases substantially at daycare (he gets ~8-9 oz from bottles over ~8 hrs) I doubt he's going to stop nursing at night.  Chicken and egg, I know.

I think I'll try the same thing tonight.  And maybe if we're making some headway try cutting the 1:00 feeding, too, in a few days.

*

Thinking about this more logically now: if I don't think he can go more than 6-7 hrs without food, I should probably time that so those ~6 hrs coincide with my sleep.  So tonight I'm going to try to nurse him before I go to bed at around 10:00 and then see if I can ignore him until 4:00 or 5:00... 6:00 would be great, but I really don't see that happening, not yet anyway...  but I really might need to sleep on the couch :) 

Post #8055 about Sleep

I'm so tired that I just want to cry.

Scratch that.  I actually DID cry putting Tiny Boy to bed tonight.

It seems 10.5 months of hardly sleeping is when it becomes a CRISIS THAT MUST BE DEALT WITH IMMEDIATELY and no I am not willing to consider any strategy for sleep training that doesn't work TODAY.

I think I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight.

I think.

Post #8054 about Sleep

I think that Tiny Boy is over his cold.

And done teething (well, for this current tooth, anyway).

And on something resembling a nap schedule (different at home and at school, but a schedule nonetheless).

And putting himself to bed at night without screaming for 30 minutes.

But the problem is that has not in any way translated into putting himself back to sleep if he wakes, despite what sleep books and his pediatrician say.

So I think, I think I might begin the process of night-weaning.  I am not sure that he's ready to go allnight without milk.  But nursing every hour is not about food, it's about comfort.  Or something.

Here's my question:  do I try to cut one feeding at a time or just do it?  And if I do cut a feeding at a time, which one to go first?  Obviously the easiest one (for me, anyway) to do is that 10-11ish one; that also makes it the easiest not to cut.

Advise me, please.

*

Update, the next morning:  Well, we took a combo approach.  When he woke around 9:00 I ignored him completely.  When he woke up at 10:00 something, I ignored him completely.  He managed to put himself to sleep within about 10 minutes both times. 

When he woke up around 11:45 I decided to nurse him (it had been about 5 hrs without nursing, which is a LONG stretch for him).  I woke up with a baby attached to my breast, sleeping soundly, an hour later and dumped him in the crib.  Didn't hear a peep out of him until around 3:00, and I nursed him again.  (I decided after that initial stretch, I'm willing to go 2 hrs but no more, until we're down to one feeding in the middle of the night.)  Then of course came 4:00, when I took my pillow and went down to the couch and listened to him cry off and on for the better part of an hour.  And finally caved and nursed him around 5:30.  And then again when he "woke" for the day and dozed for a few minutes.  I know he didn't nurse nearly as much overnight because I'm pumping now instead of around 11:00 am.

It's that 4:00-6:30 am stretch that kills me, no matter how well he does earlier in the night.  I'll see what happens tonight.  If he wakes/nurses 12, 3, and 5, I can live with that for a while, and then get rid of the 3, hopefully.  Because if he can't put himself back to sleep, really, I might as well feed him, because even if I'm on the couch, I'm not sleeping...and either is he.