I was waiting to write this post until we had a set schedule with Andrew.

Except it’s been almost 9 months and there really isn’t a schedule in sight, and if I don’t write this now it probably won’t ever be written.

{ Friday }

6:00-6:30am: Andrew wakes up to nurse. I don’t remember him waking up during the night (we co-bed). SCORE! He nurses for 10 minutes and then falls asleep again. Keith gets up, has a shower & gets dressed for work. I lay there until he comes to grab a still sleeping Andrew to put in his carseat. I get up, grab clothes and hustle out the door to drive Keith to work.

6:30-7:30: I drive Keith to work, stop at Timmies for an iced coffee & drive back home. Andrew babbles a bit but mostly sleeps the entire way.

7:30-8:00: Diaper change. I let Andrew crawl around while I drink my coffee and catch up with all my social media (twitter/facebook/feedly/instagram/hellobee) on my phone.

8:00-8:20: Nurse.

8:20-9:15: Andrew isn’t being clingy or whining (small miracle), so I let him play independently while I go to the kitchen and start cleaning up from dinner the night before. I do a load of dishes, tidy up, portion pork to freeze, and start switching a low cupboard from small appliances to unbreakable, baby-friendly items. It gets promptly investigated and played in quite thoroughly.


9:15-9:50: Andrew gets fussy and starts rubbing his eyes. I nurse until he falls asleep, and then hold him for 10 minutes to make sure he’s really sleeping.

9:50: Naptime! Usually I would nap right next to him but I’m feeling fine, energy wise, so I finish the dishes, tidy the bedroom & bathroom and put away a load of laundry while listening to a PVRed episode of Conan.

11:00: STILL SLEEPING. I can’t believe it. Usually his naps last anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour if he’s sleeping by himself (and usually it’s on the 20-minute side). I make myself some peanut butter & honey on toast, check a few things on the computer, and start reading.

11:04-11:25: Andrew wakes up crying miserably, which I know means he’s still really tired. Tell myself I won’t resort to nursing. Manage to rock him to dozing, but he starts to cry again. End up nursing anyway.

11:25-12:09: Hold a sleeping baby; I’m afraid he’ll wake up again. Check social media and blogs on my phone. I try to tell myself that this period in our lives will be over far before I want it to, and to soak up all the baby snuggles, but to be honest, it’s kind of annoying.

12:09: I’m thirsty. He’s really heavy; my arms hurt. My shoulders, especially. I have to pee. Do I dare put him down?

12:22: Can’t take it anymore. Put him down. He (miraculously!) stays asleep. Since it’s payday, I hop on the computer to pay some bills.

12:44-12:53: Andrew wakes up, happy this time. He gets another diaper change and changed from his jammies to clothes. Today is a 3-6 short sleeve striped onesie from bon bebe & a pair of 3-6 black pants from George.

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12:55-1:29: Playtime! He crawls, cruises, rolls, bangs things together, squeaks Sophie, flips through his board books. We shake our heads (new skill!), babble, wave hi and bye, and read a book or two. He also needs another diaper change (dirty this time).

1:29: Quick lunch/snack. I make myself some toast, and give Andrew a chunk of banana.

1:36-1:53: Nurse.

2:00-2:30: Andrew goes back to playing while I quickly wipe up smashed banana pieces, brush my teeth and scrape my hair back into a bun.

2:30-3:05: I load Andrew up in the carseat and leave to pick Keith up from work.

3:05-3:30: I’m 20 minutes early but I have my book and Andrew is asleep so I leave the car running and read while I wait.

3:30-4:26: Drive home. I HATE rush hour – a 20 minute trip takes an hour. Andrew sleeps (thankfully!) the whole way home. I cannot tell you how many times we’ve had to do this trip with an absolutely miserable baby screaming his head off the entire way. It is the worst. Hands down.

4:45-5:15: I throw in a load of laundry and go on the computer while Keith plays with Andrew on the floor. I also pull pork from the freezer for dinner.

5:20-5:27: Andrew nurses, but only for 7 minutes. Usually around this time we’d take him for a walk or to the park but it’s raining today so we stay home. Andrew gets a diaper change.

5:30-6:30: Put on a PVRed episode of Chicago Fire. Ten minutes in I transfer laundry over and start a load of towels. Andrew is still fussy so I attempt to nurse him (twice).

6:30-7:30: Keith cooks dinner and I fold one load while transferring the other. Andrew is still fussy. I feed him a chunk of banana and attempt to nurse twice more, but he won’t stay latched. I make him a 4oz bottle; he truly isn’t hungry, because he doesn’t drink it. I also do a quick mop of the kitchen floor since the floor is sticky from all the banana.

7:30-7:45: We all eat dinner together. Tonight it’s sweet & sour pork over rice. We’re doing straight out baby-led weaning, so we feed Andrew off our plates.

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7:45-8:00: Baby led weaning is great. The mess it creates – not so much. After dinner he goes directly for his bath. I put a laundry basket right in the tub, fill it to the first line of holes, and bathe him in that. While I’m bathing him, Keith cleans up his high chair & sweeps the floor.

We lotion him up & change him into his jammies (a footed sleeper). Then I hand him to Keith to feed him the bottle he didn’t drink earlier and go clean up from his bath. The towels are done, so I fold those and put the basket of clean clothes away.

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8:00-9:30: Keith finishes giving Andrew his bottle but he’s still awake, so we just let him cruise around in an effort to tire himself out. He has another dirty diaper (two in one day is SUPER rare). Keith finally makes up another 4oz bottle, but he won’t take it. I end up nursing, and then feeding him 2oz of the bottle. I hold him for 10 minutes to make sure.

9:30-10:10: I tidy his toy area and start on the dinner dishes. Halfway through Keith offers to finish them for me if I go for a Timmies run. I take the days dirty diapers to the dumpster on my way out.

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what it usually looks like.

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All tidied.

10:10-11:40: I read more of my book while Keith watches Mayday & plays Everquest.

11:40-11:47: All three of us go to bed. I dreamfeed Andrew.

I don’t know what time it is, but I’m guessing it’s around 3:00-3:30am: Nurse.

5:30am: Nurse again. This is considered an ideal night with only two wakings. There have been many, many nights with 3, 4, 5+. The entire reason we co-sleep is so I am not a sleep deprived zombie at this point.

8:00am: Up for the day. I take first shift – what we jokingly call his awake time until his first nap, or two hours, whichever comes first. Sometimes we can only last an hour though, especially if he’s had a super restless night. We split the days of the weekend, letting the other one sleep in.



So Andrew started to crawl.

And then within two days, managed to do this:

And this:


And then I promptly died.


I cannot believe Andrew is five months old already, and I haven’t been writing all of this down. He just changes so fast!

He’s been sitting up unassisted since just after Christmas, and has started slowly army crawling in the month since. He weighs about seventeen pounds – not sure on his length but he’s definitely a small, compact little guy. He grins and babbles and screeches (so loud. SO, so loud). He LOVES my phone and the remote and the kitty, although I won’t let him touch any of it just yet. We’re still co-sleeping, because he doesn’t sleep through the night yet – he wakes up every night around 3:30 and again anywhere between 5:30 and 6:30. He still takes three naps a day, although getting him to sleep is…well. When he started to roll over at three and a half months, he would wake himself up after twenty minutes, so it was the biggest lightbulb moment when I realized I could put him to sleep on his stomach (seriously. it took the better part of two weeks. two awful, oh-my-fuck-what-did-I-get-myself-into, weeks).

He does know his name, although not consistently, but he definitely knows who ‘Mama’ is. He spits out any sort of pacifier but loves to munch on his toes and fingers. He wears sleepers almost exclusively because I am lazy and because when I actually dress him he looks like such a little boy and then I feel like crying because really? where did my froggy little newborn go? He’s had two bad weeks of sort-of teething – nothing poking through yet, but he was utterly miserable and showing all the other signs of teething.

He’s very interested in anything we eat and grabs for whatever it is, but when offered/fed, spits it back out, so he’s not quite ready to try solids yet (which we will be doing Baby Led Weaning, because, again, I am lazy and the whole premise just makes sense to me. Everyone I’ve talked to in real life seems to think I’m crazy).

I’m pretty sure I missed something, but in any case, I’m so excited to see what months six, seven and eight bring us!

Checking in

Written on October 25, 2012:

When they say that time speeds up when you have a  kid, they weren’t joking. Somehow Andrew has been here for nine weeks and while the days are long (and some, my goodness, are so very long), the weeks seem short, and the past two months have just flown by.

I really can’t complain – Andrew has definitely become an easy going baby (knock on wood), once we got used to each other and somewhat of a routine going. He’s smiling and cooing and we even got a laugh out of him last Saturday.


Present Day:

Oh, my goodness, Andrew is growing way too fast for me to keep up. I took him out of his carseat this morning and thought to myself – how the HELL do you look so much older in just a few hours?

Poor baby’s a little congested today, but still (knock on wood) generally in good spirits. I got a good laughing session out of him today by saying “sneezy baby!” in all sorts of silly voices. He only napped for 40 minutes this morning and should be going down for another nap shortly, but for right now he’s playing contently in his exersaucer so I’m not going to try putting him down just yet.

In non-baby news: My dad is very, very ill. In fact, he’s pretty close to dying. He has (on top of his other health issues), TB & cancer of the throat & mouth, had a pulmonary embolism and a brain hemmorage over the weekend. My brother is down in Mexico with him. Right now I’m just waiting on some sort of news; every time I see I have a new email my heart jumps a little. If you could spare a thought or a prayer for him to ease his passing, I’d greatly appreciate it.

And, with that, the baby has had enough of the exersaucer and is demanding to be let the fuck out already, woman.

Birth story


Andrew was born on August 18, after 9 hours of labour & 18 minutes of pushing, weighing 7lb9oz and 19.5 inches long. My “birth plan” was to be flexible, get him out safely, and give me all the drugs.


Thursday morning I started contracting and by 3am was headed to the hospital (due to contractions being 3-5 minutes apart) only to be told that I was – at most – a “small” 3 and not quite fully effaced. The contractions slowed down to about 8-10 minutes apart so they sent me to walk around for 2 hours to see if I could make any progress that way – only to have them stop altogether. So we headed home and after a nap, the contractions increased in intensity throughout the day but never got closer than 5 to 8 minutes apart … by 6am I couldn’t take the pain anymore. When they hit I couldn’t do anything but pace back and forth across the dining room.

Went back to the hospital yet again, got another NST and cervical check, only this time I was – FINALLY – a 4 and 100% effaced. They still sent me to go walk around for half an hour to see if the contractions would get closer together; they also warned me that if I was going to eat then do it now since the anesthesiologist wouldn’t give me an epidural if I had eaten within the last two hours. So we grabbed coffee and a bagel and walked around – the contractions never really got closer together but the pain was just too much. We headed back to the birthing unit to get checked in at 8am, and I asked for some sort of pain meds, only to be told by some nurse (whom I never saw again, thank goodness) that she’d rather I hop in the Jacuzzi instead of giving me drugs (which, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t adverse to doing, but HELLO, if I ask for some drugs, GIVE ME THE EFFING DRUGS).

After I met all the nurses and residents and all that lovely hospital jazz, I hopped in the Jacuzzi for about a half hour – I got so bored and the water grew way too cold to do anything effective for the pain. At this point they tried to break my water but couldn’t find the bag to break – the OB resident couldn’t tell for sure if it was his head or not that she was scraping against.

They came back to check me at 10am to no progress, so DH and I decided to just go walk around the hospital – I knew I wanted an epidural at some point but I also knew I wanted to delay it as long as I could – but I really needed something for the pain. They gave me 4mg of Dilaudid, which was awesome. I could still feel the contractions but I wasn’t yelping in pain – when they hit I would just put my arms around DH’s neck (and he would put his arm around my waist) and breathe through them. They started coming fast and furious – it felt like I went through 75 in a 5 minute span ;) . We went back to the room and got re-checked – I had gone from a 4 to a 6 in 90 minutes! I decided to just keep walking and they would recheck me in 2 hours.

At the end of the 2 hours the drugs were wearing off and I was getting exhausted from essentially being up with pain for the last two days. I remember feeling very, very out of it, trying to focus on what was happening around me but I just couldn’t. I quickly decided I didn’t want to go back to being in pain so I asked for the epidural. I was very surprised at how quick it all happened – within twenty minutes it was all placed and I was back to not feeling anything.

At this point, the contractions slowed down, so the nurse suggested starting picotin to help – and seeing as I couldn’t feel the contractions anymore, it didn’t matter to me. At this point I actually fell asleep! I was texting one of my friends about being in labour and I would pass out with the phone in my hand. I dozed in and out for the next hour and a half to two hours while Keith went downstairs to grab something to eat.

I woke up really needing to pee and was able to get out of bed but wasn’t able to go, so they did a quick in and out catheter. When I shifted back into bed, I could feel intense pressure in my pelvic area; the nurse checked me and told me that I was at a full 10 and his head was “right there”. They debated calling the OB and having me start pushing but I told them I probably wouldn’t be able to help myself if I just shifted a little more to the center. So at 4:45pm I started pushing – which hurt like the EFFING DICKENS, OH MAH GAWD, I just wanted him OUT – and at 5:03pm Andrew Wylie was born weighing 7lb9oz and 19.5 inches long.

Then all the usual stuff happened; Keith cut the cord, they checked him over, I delivered the placenta, and they stitched up the second degree tear I got. In fact, it took them longer to do that than it did to push him out! They tried laying him on my chest while they sewed me up but I was at such a weird angle that he ended up lying on my throat and it just wasn’t comfortable. Once they were all done with the stitchery, they put him to my breast to try feeding, and he latched on perfectly. We chilled out for the next couple of hours; I took a quick shower and got dressed and by 8pm were wheeled down to the Mother/Baby Unit.

And now for the part I know you all actually want to see – pictures!


We’ve been out at least once every single day since he’s been born. He loves his carseat but only if it’s in the car & moving.


Milk drunk face … friggin cutie!


How I spend most of my time … please excuse the utter slobbiness that is myself.


Keith and Andrew having some daddy-son time. Keith has just been AMAZING, both with dealing with me and spending time with Andrew. Seriously. Am so blown away by him. Love.

I’m back…

I know its crazy to start blogging again juuuuust as my baby is due, but it’s been bothering me over the last few weeks. So I’m back, with a new blog, and a fresh start.

I know the likelihood of anyone still reading this – especially since I changed the URL again – is practically nil. One of the hazards you get when you’re a sporadic blogger at best and then stop completely for months.  What can I say? I’ve been writing for a long time, and I just burnt out. It happens.

Alright. Baby needs to be fed, and since Mama has reverted to her natural state of being a vampire, its time for a nap. See y’alls later.


I know I owe you recaps. I know I still have to write the majority of my thank you notes. I know I still have to pick out all the professional photos we want printed. I know I have a super messy house where I consider it an accomplishment if we have a supply of clean laundry and enough clean dishes to eat off of (which, lets be honest, has mostly fallen to Keith lately).

But I have a reason for all this.  For the last ten and a half weeks, I’ve been sort of busy. The type of busy that has me exhausted and sick and (quite frankly!) hating life. Turns out I don’t do so well when I feel like crap the majority of the time (who knew?!).

And then I saw this little nugget waving their arm at me in a darkened ultrasound room. And I heard a heartbeat that was not my own fill the room.

And you know… All these weeks of misery? Kind of worth it.

Actually, make that totally worth it.