Seems like the easiest way for me to keep track of things these days is to make lists. It's so helpful since I have such trouble gathering all my thoughts in one place. I'm using Word for my lists. Excel is too clinical, and writing things on paper is too scattered. There's a funny little part of me that demands at least a minimum level of organization now that things are about to change. So here's my current list of lists.
budget.doc: The budget. This has a sister Excel sheet, rudimentary though it may be, that just lists who gets paid every month. So on the left are the payees, and then I make a column each month and that's where I put either 'paid', 'mailed on x/xx' or 'due on x/xx'. Anything that has a fee for late payments also gets entered on the 'bills' layer of iCal so that I can see what day I need to drop it in the mail. The Word doc is a list of all three bank accounts with an item-by-item account of upcoming deductions, along with current/future totals and a grand total. Looking over this paragraph I can see how one might think all this makes no sense or is too much work, but since I developed this little system I feel like I'm on top of things for once.
Shoppin list.doc: Has the run-down of food shopping staples and things we'll need handy for those new baby days... paper plates, plastic cups and flatware, Ziploc freezer bags, etc. I can't think of a less convenient time for a sink full of dishes. And I won't be doing the shopping, so I need to have an easy way for Mom and Frank to know what should end up in the grocery cart. God forbid someone forgets the chocolate chocolate chip muffins from the Wegman's bakery. I would only have myself to blame for not having it on the list.
Hospital Bag.doc: Has my packing progress color coded so if I have to run around gathering things up fast fast fast, I don't even have to think about what's already in there. I'll just know I need to toss in my wallet, phone, make-up bag, brush, hair dryer and the baby nail clippers.
Nico Finn's Menu.doc: Basics of Nico's meals, including what time he usually eats what and when he gets his milk, juice, and water. Also lists when Nico is used to getting a fresh diaper, in case there's any doubt in Frank's mind that yes, Nico really should use six diapers a day.
There, now I feel organized. A list of my lists. I may have gone too far.
Friday, April 4
Thursday, April 3
Nursing tanks and other gear
Last spring when I cleaned out all the clothes I could no longer wear, I foolishly put my two nursing tank tops into the Goodwill bag. As I am deciding which shirts to put in my hospital bag, I can see that was not the best move. Of course I never expected to need them again so soon. I thought enough time would pass that I'd need to buy new ones anyway. Alas, this is not the case and now *a-boo-woo-woo* I have to buy new ones.
I've got a real bee in my bonnet about spending money lately. We're on a budget, and I happily go without a lot of things. Frank, however, ignores many of my requests for being thrifty. Damn you, iTunes, for having that new Gnarls Barkley album. Damn you, O.M.G. in New York for having eye-catching dark denim on sale in Frank's size. Daaaamn you, PNC Bank, for replacing his lost ATM card in less than the quoted ten days. His philosophy is "I make the money and I deserve to spend it whenever I want." Ok, I can see his point. But I'm the one who has to make this end meet that end every month. And I'm also the one who endures his bitching when he wonders aloud why there's no "extra" money, and I tell him it's because he spent it all. A-duh.
Sometimes I feel real guilt buying things for myself but considering I'm the mama and I actually need some gear for the impending mama time, here is part of today's to-do list:
Buy $36 apiece nursing tank tops online. *Update* I see Victoria's Secret has nursing bras... hmm... I think I'm changing my mind about the tanks.
Buy pink receiving blankets online. Use coupon.
Search for stylin' new diaper bag. Sadly, Petunia Pickle Bottom's Cake collection can't be purchased directly online so it'll probably be a brief search. That's the only diaper bag I want.
In all fairness, it was Frank's idea that I should get a new wardrobe once I feel like I can go clothes shopping again. He even brought me some fashion magazines so I can get ideas for cool things to get. I can't tell you how nice it's going to be to kiss the stretch panels goodbye forever. The stretch marks, however... they're a different story.
I've got a real bee in my bonnet about spending money lately. We're on a budget, and I happily go without a lot of things. Frank, however, ignores many of my requests for being thrifty. Damn you, iTunes, for having that new Gnarls Barkley album. Damn you, O.M.G. in New York for having eye-catching dark denim on sale in Frank's size. Daaaamn you, PNC Bank, for replacing his lost ATM card in less than the quoted ten days. His philosophy is "I make the money and I deserve to spend it whenever I want." Ok, I can see his point. But I'm the one who has to make this end meet that end every month. And I'm also the one who endures his bitching when he wonders aloud why there's no "extra" money, and I tell him it's because he spent it all. A-duh.
Sometimes I feel real guilt buying things for myself but considering I'm the mama and I actually need some gear for the impending mama time, here is part of today's to-do list:
Buy $36 apiece nursing tank tops online. *Update* I see Victoria's Secret has nursing bras... hmm... I think I'm changing my mind about the tanks.
Buy pink receiving blankets online. Use coupon.
Search for stylin' new diaper bag. Sadly, Petunia Pickle Bottom's Cake collection can't be purchased directly online so it'll probably be a brief search. That's the only diaper bag I want.
In all fairness, it was Frank's idea that I should get a new wardrobe once I feel like I can go clothes shopping again. He even brought me some fashion magazines so I can get ideas for cool things to get. I can't tell you how nice it's going to be to kiss the stretch panels goodbye forever. The stretch marks, however... they're a different story.
Wednesday, April 2
What the heck is going on!
Today I woke up with a weird feeling that today was going to be the day.
Here's a little run-down of the past couple of nights. First I wake up with heartburn so bad I swear I'm going to burp fire. I chew three Tums. Then I wake up tasting heartburny stomach acids and try to do that weird thing where you feel like you're going to throw up but try your best to keep it down. I chew two Tums and sip some water, and lie back down using my pillows to keep my head and shoulders unnaturally elevated. Around 5am I have to pee real bad. I get out of bed and try to balance on my wobbly Bambi legs, make my way to the bathroom and back, and lie down on whichever side I wasn't previously sleeping because that hip is sore and numb.
So now that it's later in the evening, this is obviously not the day. But I definitely feel different. I've been nauseous. I've had to go potty a lot more. I'm getting more Braxtons. I had the uncontrollable urge to scrub the bath tub even though I can barely move. My fingers and toes feel chubbier. I'm planning on having Mom or Frank pick me up some hair spray or styling cream so I can keep my hair looking as nice as possible, just in case. Which reminds me, I need to shower tonight. So off I go!
Here's a little run-down of the past couple of nights. First I wake up with heartburn so bad I swear I'm going to burp fire. I chew three Tums. Then I wake up tasting heartburny stomach acids and try to do that weird thing where you feel like you're going to throw up but try your best to keep it down. I chew two Tums and sip some water, and lie back down using my pillows to keep my head and shoulders unnaturally elevated. Around 5am I have to pee real bad. I get out of bed and try to balance on my wobbly Bambi legs, make my way to the bathroom and back, and lie down on whichever side I wasn't previously sleeping because that hip is sore and numb.
So now that it's later in the evening, this is obviously not the day. But I definitely feel different. I've been nauseous. I've had to go potty a lot more. I'm getting more Braxtons. I had the uncontrollable urge to scrub the bath tub even though I can barely move. My fingers and toes feel chubbier. I'm planning on having Mom or Frank pick me up some hair spray or styling cream so I can keep my hair looking as nice as possible, just in case. Which reminds me, I need to shower tonight. So off I go!
Advice shopping
Now that I'm tackling the several-times-recommended-by-our-pediatrician "What to Expect the Toddler Years" I get more and more to feeling like child rearing advice is definitely not a 'one size fits all' subject. At nine months, right before Nico started walking, the doctor mentioned this book and said it would be good to get a head start. At 12 months she asked if I'd gotten the book. I said no, and didn't bother to mention that I had put it on my pollyanna list and was waiting to see if I'd get it. Or that I had read "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and "What to Expect the First Year" and wasn't too motivated to start in on another book in the exact same format. At the 15 month check-up, she asked, again, if I had the book and I could tell she was at least a tiny bit agitated when I said no. Again, I went without mentioning some things, like the other resources I was using for toddler and boy related advice and information. Certainly "What to Expect" isn't the only informative and adviceful (I just made up that word, thank you) series in existence.
Semi-reluctantly, I started to read "Toddler Years". Well, not so much read as skip through. I was never the girl who spent her teenage years babysitting neighborhood youngsters, or the girl who knew how to change a diaper. The first time I ever wiped and diapered someone else's butt, it was Kaeleigh's when I was 19 years old. She was the first baby I ever felt close enough with to think, ok, changing this child's diapers is completely appropriate. Even now I wouldn't say that I have extensive experience with children. I have plenty of experience with my own child, yes, but that hardly makes me an expert in the field. Even so, it's not that hard to point out child rearing advice which I consider to be total bullshit.
I tend to ask for advice or stories from people who I feel will be able to, and who genuinely want to, help me. I don't always feel like the baby's doctor has the absolute be all, end all corner on the market of child rearing knowledge. The more books, websites and magazine articles I read, the more I realize that no one person has all the answers. No one point of view is always right. This time last year I was still in my "completely uncertain and scared poopless" phase of motherhood. I was getting unsolicited advice from day care workers on an almost daily basis, and not getting to spend nearly as much time with my son as I wanted. I had a four-month-old and still had only a very small clue about babies. I was busy trying to figure everything out while getting advice from all directions. Then one day it just hit me... I had to start trusting myself. I better start a-swimmin' or I'd drown in doubt.
So here I am, a year down the road, feeling a thousand times better. I'm going to keep reading through this book. I've found some good tips for behavior management and general kid care. I've come across a few things I'd just as soon ignore. I'm not sure what the final useful-to-crap ratio will be, but I can assure you this and all future reading will be taken with a grain of salt. Maybe you're thinking *duh* I could've told you to do that, Karen. But I'm a late bloomer, what else can I say?
Semi-reluctantly, I started to read "Toddler Years". Well, not so much read as skip through. I was never the girl who spent her teenage years babysitting neighborhood youngsters, or the girl who knew how to change a diaper. The first time I ever wiped and diapered someone else's butt, it was Kaeleigh's when I was 19 years old. She was the first baby I ever felt close enough with to think, ok, changing this child's diapers is completely appropriate. Even now I wouldn't say that I have extensive experience with children. I have plenty of experience with my own child, yes, but that hardly makes me an expert in the field. Even so, it's not that hard to point out child rearing advice which I consider to be total bullshit.
I tend to ask for advice or stories from people who I feel will be able to, and who genuinely want to, help me. I don't always feel like the baby's doctor has the absolute be all, end all corner on the market of child rearing knowledge. The more books, websites and magazine articles I read, the more I realize that no one person has all the answers. No one point of view is always right. This time last year I was still in my "completely uncertain and scared poopless" phase of motherhood. I was getting unsolicited advice from day care workers on an almost daily basis, and not getting to spend nearly as much time with my son as I wanted. I had a four-month-old and still had only a very small clue about babies. I was busy trying to figure everything out while getting advice from all directions. Then one day it just hit me... I had to start trusting myself. I better start a-swimmin' or I'd drown in doubt.
So here I am, a year down the road, feeling a thousand times better. I'm going to keep reading through this book. I've found some good tips for behavior management and general kid care. I've come across a few things I'd just as soon ignore. I'm not sure what the final useful-to-crap ratio will be, but I can assure you this and all future reading will be taken with a grain of salt. Maybe you're thinking *duh* I could've told you to do that, Karen. But I'm a late bloomer, what else can I say?
Tuesday, April 1
How could I forget?
This morning I used two Nico nicknames I forgot to put on last night's entry.
Frank calls him Chiquitín-boom-bean, and I call him Pippy (sometimes just Pip). I think that about covers it.
Frank calls him Chiquitín-boom-bean, and I call him Pippy (sometimes just Pip). I think that about covers it.
A boy by any other name...
We have so many nicknames for our son, I'm surprised he answers to Nico at all. I have no idea how or why we go around calling this kid so many different things.
There are a variety of names from the animal kingdom. Most often he's Monkey. Sometimes Monks, or Monkeydoo. We also have Teddy Bear and Cookie Bear and Snuggie Bear. Ever since he was a little baby I've called him Bird. So he's still Bird or Baby Bird, and now that he likes to run through the house naked after his bath he's also Nakie Bird (sung like the Nancy Sinatra song "Lady Bird"). Trying to get him into his pajamas after naked time, he goes from Nakie Bird to Worm.
Next, we have the ethnic category. There's Chiquitín, Chicurrio, Chiquito, Chicoocoo (a take on my nickname Chicookie), Hijo, Papi, Poppo, Papa, Papiloo, 'Pito, Chinin, Chinois, Colorado, Chinito, Mr. Finn and Mr. Chin Chin Chin. When sophistication is required, he's know simply as The Prince.
When he does hear his actual name, it's seldom just Nico. He's Nico-las, Niquín, Niquito, Nicolini, and Nicurrio. When we go to the store or the play gym I usually call him Nico or Poppo. Most of his names are similar enough, or goofy enough, that he knows he's being addressed. If he ignores me I chalk it up to the fact that he's one rather than the fact that I'm calling him Monkey. At least he's not as confused as the little boy in his gym group who stands on the tall mats posing with his hands on his hips shouting, "Hi, I'm Carla!" Not that there's anything wrong with that.
There are a variety of names from the animal kingdom. Most often he's Monkey. Sometimes Monks, or Monkeydoo. We also have Teddy Bear and Cookie Bear and Snuggie Bear. Ever since he was a little baby I've called him Bird. So he's still Bird or Baby Bird, and now that he likes to run through the house naked after his bath he's also Nakie Bird (sung like the Nancy Sinatra song "Lady Bird"). Trying to get him into his pajamas after naked time, he goes from Nakie Bird to Worm.
Next, we have the ethnic category. There's Chiquitín, Chicurrio, Chiquito, Chicoocoo (a take on my nickname Chicookie), Hijo, Papi, Poppo, Papa, Papiloo, 'Pito, Chinin, Chinois, Colorado, Chinito, Mr. Finn and Mr. Chin Chin Chin. When sophistication is required, he's know simply as The Prince.
When he does hear his actual name, it's seldom just Nico. He's Nico-las, Niquín, Niquito, Nicolini, and Nicurrio. When we go to the store or the play gym I usually call him Nico or Poppo. Most of his names are similar enough, or goofy enough, that he knows he's being addressed. If he ignores me I chalk it up to the fact that he's one rather than the fact that I'm calling him Monkey. At least he's not as confused as the little boy in his gym group who stands on the tall mats posing with his hands on his hips shouting, "Hi, I'm Carla!" Not that there's anything wrong with that.
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