Rory Calhoun

Alternate title:  a Baby in Good Standing

For some reason, my video uploader isn't working, so this is what we get in place of a very cute video.

Tamsin's 8-week update, long overdue

Ok, ok, so Tamsin is 8 weeks old and has barely had made her presence felt at all on the interweb.  She blames the second child, naturally.  I blame the fact that... ok, I have no excuse, and feel shame.*

So, I present:

An Advanced Baby (of course) rocking tummy time at 4 weeks. 
She looks as if to say, "Tummy time?  Piff.  Now challenge me."

Mostly, she's a pretty peaceful little girl. We seem to have figured out the feeding thing (nursing followed by a bit of formula makes everyone happy) (until diaper time, that is), and after she's finished spitting it up (either on Mommy or directly into her outfit or snowsuit), she watches her brother and sister play, or more likely, gets sort of smothered by them. They love her so very, very much, but seem to always want to be on top of her in order to give her a kiss.

Hanging out with Grandma at 6 weeks.  Yep, she's a redhead.  Poor skidoo. 
However, she does have Vaughn's rooster hair going on.  No matter what, it doesn't flatten, which is completely awesome!!!
Vaughn and Ailsa have Chris' colouring, and turn nutbrown in the summer.  This kid's going to be white as snow.  (Or hot pink and peeling.) (At last!  Someone to sit in the shade with me!)


Above, we had a nice "little" celebration for the V-man's 4th birthday.  More on that later (after I post Ailsa's 2nd birthday, which happened in June.  Patience...patience...), but Tamsin was passed around from arm to arm all party long - the perfect guest!

The red eyebrows come from (what else?) reading with her eyes shut. Or, possibly, screaming. At all other times, they have to be pencilled in. I haven't yet, but it's soooo tempting.

On January 6, she had an epiphany, and figured out the whole smiling goofily thing.  She seems to get a kick out of us, for some reason.  The worst smiley times are at bedtime, however - when she's getting her jammies on, she's full of gurgles, coos, smiles, and conversation... just when we want her to wind down for sleep!  Of course, we are helpless to resist her charm, and she sucks us in every night.



Speaking of night, we have a pretty good little routine going (knock wood):  the older two do baths, jammies, teeth, stories, songs, and into bed by 7:30, then Tamsin gets her bath and one more feed and is usually out for the night by 9 at the latest.  She's been waking up usually just once (but now that I've cursed myself, it will be more) around 4:30 or 5 am, but I can live with that!  Last week, she was measured at 9 lbs, 10 oz, and by the time she gets to 10 lbs (hopefully tonight), I figure she's ready for a nice 12-hour stretch.  (hopefully tonight) 

And finally, here we are at 8 weeks, ready to Skype.  Note just how darn pleasant we look!  We're also available for playdates, coffee dates, and lunches...


* ...but may I point out that I was still on bedrest longer than she's been around, so it evens out somehow...

So...tired...

...but enough about me.  Apparently, the combination of two toddlers and Christmas -- as well as rotating flus -- was not enough this year, so I upped my game with the new addition, who is now 1 month old! 

Tamsin is also tired...of the paparazzi!  But too bad, kiddo!  With great cuteness comes great responsibility.

The beautiful photos, above, were taken by Betty Lee McGillis, photographer extraordinaire (you can find her on Facebook!).  She somehow corralled all three of my kids in one photo session, and nobody died!  Nobody even got a time out!  It's a miracle!

Unrelated, but timely, the New Year's Resolutions start today.  I'm not foolish enough to pledge anything as crazy as styling my hair this year (see also:  too many children and so, so tired).  I'm back to the basics:

1.  Floss every day.  (Dammit.  Does this mean I have to floss tonight?)

2.  Write, more.  (Yes, I'm committing to more blog posts.  Please call me out as necessary.)

3.  More kindness, to my family, my community, and hopefully myself.  (This one is fluffily vague enough that I can be successful, no matter what.)

Happy New Year!

Pleased* to introduce...

Our baby girl, Tamsin Margaret, arrived on Tuesday, November 27th at 10:12 am.  Weighing in at 7 lbs even, and measuring a whole 20 inches, she is smack dab, size-wise, between her brother and sister. 

She is an amazingly sweet and pink little thing with fluffy auburn hair, and eats and sleeps surprisingly well... and aside from taking her time showing up, she has been very accommodating and considerate of the Huff household. 

Lettuce first take a look back at the few days preceding her arrival.  (Obviously, bedrest works, as she managed to stay put for 39 weeks and 6 days.  Or, as my doctorb put it, perhaps my cervix was like me:  short but mighty.  (No, I wasn't laughing.))

Here I am on Saturday evening, quite certain that her eminence was imminent.  I had had some crippling, clonic contractions, called the Warden to come stay over (and Aunt Joanne, too!), and decided that the Blue Spandex needed to make one last appearance.

...and here I am on Tuesday morning.  After waking up at 1:30 am with even more contractions, and deciding to watch a bit of Wipeout, I got Chris out of bed around 3 am, because let's face it:  when Wipeout is no longer funny, it's time to go to the hospital.  After some triaging, some time in the jacuzzi, and some walking, I said, "hook me up!" and got me an epidural.  And then some pitocin.  Guess how I felt about it?  IT WAS AWESOME.  Maybe I appreciated it more because I had done it twice before without, but wow, what a... yes, I'll say it... pleasant experience!  Eventually, they broke my water, I pushed for a whole NINE minutes, and voila!  A Tamsin is born!

Big Brother and Big Sister came to meet the little one - they were SO excited, and still are.

This is Thursday morning, getting ready to come home.  I again had a lovely hospital stay, and can't say enough good things about the nurses, doctors, and food services.

Tamsin's Birth Day celebration (thanks, Grandma!).

Tamsin's first bath, with a very enthusiastic helper!  He took off his shirt so it wouldn't get wet.

Tamsin yukking it up with proud Daddy. 

 The first car ride with a family of five.  The new addition is snuggled in our other new addition, a Volvo station wagon.  (Shut up.  It's way cooler than a minivan.)

Our little Tamsin, 7 days old.

*  How pleased, you ask?  Why, pleased as Punch(y), of course.

And still, I embiggen

Seriously, seriously, SERIOUSLY???

Thirty.  Nine.  Weeks.

Another doc's appt, another doc's appointment booked for next week.  Sigh.

Every day, I make sure that something else that has been appropriately "nested" is pointed out to the belly, as in, "Look, Punchy!  Here's your car seat!  You can come out now."  Or, "Hey, Punchy!  Your diapers are all folded and put away, and your bed is made.  Time to come out."  Or, "Oh, Punchy?  I washed and dried all of your toys, so they're clean and ready for you to play with." 

Today's effort was a bit smaller:  "Hey, Punchy, I did my nails."  Just in case that was what was holding it back. 

I've been considering, lately, that some people just aren't comfortable with this whole Miracle of Life business.  Like me, for example.  Here I am, on my third baby, and am still creeped out horrified disgusted ... no wait, that's all how I actually feel, so I'm taking back my strikethroughs:  I own that I am creeped out, horrified and disgusted by this process.  Still.  Yes, it's amazing.  Yes, it's incredible.  But there is YET ANOTHER little being inside of me who has not only grown bones, but fingernails and toenails, too.  Shudder.  It's just not natural.  Not to mention the weird, yucky side effects, which don't need to be discussed. Bleah.

Ok, fine, since you insist.  Below, a recently-rediscovered effort at explaining about what pregnancy does to your body, drafted when I was the host organism to Huffalump the First, who became Vaughn.  I regret that I never finished it, as the third trimester is really the "best" part, but don't have a scanner at my desk anymore.

Yes, of course my resume says "sweet powerpoint skillz".*

And yes, I am available to present to 7th-9th graders.  I figure that the whole truth would reduce teenage pregnancy by a lot.


*However, my transferring-powerpoint-to-video-file skillz aren't as good, apparently.  Apologies.

Desperate Housewife aka A Cry for Help

Hey, does anyone remember the last flowchart I made?

Well, for some reason, we seemed to have more options way back in June 2010.  Here's the current Plan for my contacts during labour: 

Now, this won't be a problem at all.  In fact, we can completely ignore the bright yellow panic icon if the baby hangs out in utero till November 6th (I'll be just about 37 weeks along) (at which time the sun seekers will have returned from their vacation*).  However, the doctorb has repeatedly gotten my hopes up warned me that this one is ready for an early exit.

Which leaves us with a two-week window in which the arrival of Punchy will be more ... problematic... than not. 

So, faithful reader(s),** I throw myself on your mercy!!!  The kids, of course, are in daycare (and the Amazing Amanda has been picking them up from our house every morning - incredible!!!), and in the unlikely event*** that the baby should arrive in the middle of the night, you'd just be needed to show up, sleep, eat breakfast with two deeeeelightful Hufflings, etc, until Chris can come home from the hospital.  Any takers?  We have cable and internet, a stocked freezer and liquor cabinet, are close to downtown and RCMP HQ (hint hint), and we would be in your debt forever.

So, really, please let me know if this would be an option for any of you.  Please.  Think of this as a telethon to update my flowchart, but with less entertainment.  And more desperation. 

The Fine Print:  An offer of help could possibly result in a phone call at 2 am, requiring you to leave your nice warm bed/bar and sleep at our place.  The kids wake up at 7, and get picked up at the door around 8/8:30.  They need to be picked up by 5 pm (but I can negotiate with Amanda for a drop-off, too - did I mention she's amazing?), and honestly, once the labour part of the hospital stuff is over, I don't need Chris around, so your time commitment wouldn't extend past, oh, 12 hours or so. The "debt forever" bit is true, but we can bargain - how would you like our first born son?  He's really quite something...

* Query:  if you're already retired, do you really need to take vacations?  Really?  From what, exactly?

** Of course, if you're a random stranger reading this, maybe you should skip this part.

*** "Unlikely" in that, sure, the last two were born at 5:20 and 6:45 am, respectively.  At one point during labour with Ailsa, I saw Chris look at the clock, and I said, "I know what you're thinking."  "Do you?" he said.  "You're thinking, 'I bet some people have babies at reasonable times of day,' aren't you?"  He was.

What's New, GrumbleBunny?

Our little girl is growing up! Snif.


Here, she supports the team. Maybe, by the time her jersey fits, the Renegades Roughriders Ottawa Football Team will be back in town!

She feeds herself and drinks from her sippy cup by herself! Chris and I actually had a dinner the other night in which we both ate dinner...at the same time! She had her first steak (now that she has two teeth, we thought it was about time), we had wine... it was magical.

Below, lunchtime hijinks:

And finally, and most importantly, SHE MOVES! For a few weeks, we'd put her down and then find her somewhere else. She started by scooching (sp?) on her bum, pulling and pushing with her arms, and she has now progressed to full-on army crawling!

Here's the video of her first day of crawling:

And yes, the gates are up.

Awwww, our baby is turning into a little girl!

And Also, Ailsa

Not to be outdone by her more vocal and mobile older brother, Ailsa fights back with the only weapon she's got so far: cuteness.

This was a fallback Halloween costume, but in reality, was going to be too small by the time Halloween rolled around. Don't worry, we got good use out of it.

The cat's meow in cat's pyjamas.

Thanks to last-minute effort by Grandma and Daddy, and a cute onesie from Great-Grandma, Spider Girl was ready just in time for tricker-treating.

She's been sitting up at the table with us at dinnertime, getting used to the idea of this whole food thing.

She looks a wee bit traumatized. She must be watching either her brother or her father eat.

At 5 1/2 months, Ailsa was graciously allowed her first taste of rice cereal. It took one bite, and she was hooked. Much like her brother, she finally started to gain weight the second she started on solids and formula (as per doctor's orders - no criticisms, please). She's rounding out nicely, and our skinny, tiny little girl is becoming delightfully cuddly!

What? Now I look like my mom? What?

Ailsa's favourite hangout is her jumperoo, which she can spend 45 minutes in, at a stretch, bouncing constantly. I call her the Baby Kangaroo.

That's right! I'm bouncy to the bone!





YEAH!

The problem with all of this delightfulness and cuteness was that it was fairly consistent during the day (after the Gaia drops, that is!), but the sleep at night still wasn't happening. But, from "easing" onto formula over a period of a week, and upping her calories, she's now slept through the night THREE WHOLE TIMES this week! At almost 6 months old. Woo, indeed.

She's an incredibly social baby. Case in point: we were at Swiss Chalet the other night (Festive Special, anyone?), and she was getting antsy and fussing. But, since she was wearing a tutu, a table of 12 old people (see also: Swiss Chalet, five o'clock seating), kept glancing over and cooing, so finally, I obligingly turned her around so they could see her miserable little face. Well. It was like a ray of sunshine hit her upside the head; she started beaming the second she noticed she had an audience. Humph. She's ridiculously happy almost all the time, as long as she's being adulated.

She now lights up when she sees Vaughn, and of course plays Daddy like a little fiddle. Men of the world, look out!

Ailsa Update

"Seriously? Do I HAVE to humour him?"

Ailsa's becoming more of a delight every day! (Of course, she was so miserable at the beginning that ANY cuteness gets her props, but she's almost completely turned around.)

I would like to send a shout-out to that unnamed woman angel at the grocery store who suggested Bio-Gaia drops last Sunday. She, too, was shopping with a newborn and a toddler, and told me that it had changed her life, immediately, replacing gripe water by the bottle. What the heck, I thought? But for $27, it had better work... and WHOA!!! There's been an undeniable, unbelievable change in Ailsa's disposition and awesomeness, in less than a week! We've stopped the baby Zantac, cut back on the gripe water, and .... whoa.

We also yanked the soother from her realm. I was getting a wee bit tired of replacing it 3 or 4 times per nap and 8 or 9 times per night, so... yoink! The first night, she was understandably peeved about it, and screamed for 35 minutes. The next day, we had a fight at every naptime, but during each 20-30-minute session of crying, she'd find a finger, a thumb, a hand, and -- get this -- wouldn't wake up five/ten/fifteen minutes later, looking for a soother!!! Today is Day Four, and she went down with a whimper for about 8 minutes at each nap, and about 3 minutes at bedtime. We're all sleeping better. Why the heck didn't I do this before? Oh right. I was too exhausted to think.

Everybody happy? Well, I should say! (click the "play" button!)

New Tricks:

She rolled over, from front to back, this week! She's done it four or five times now: awesome.

She can also "hop" herself forward while lying on her back, and rotate around like a little clock.

AND she laughed today! Not just a happy squeak, but an actual laugh! Of course it was at something witty that I said...

Ok, so she's not smiling or laughing here, but I blame John Tesh.

One Month Later: What a Family!

Well, the droves of grandparents have all returned to their respective homes, much to my horror and dismay. They were all such fantastic helps -- I honestly don't know what I would have done without you! Vaughn still points at random old people (ha ha) and says "Bompa"!

I'm somehow still upright (but on my way for a nap - V's in daycare twice a week for 3-5 hours, just so he can play with his friends and I can have a bit of one-on-one with Ailsa, and I can't miss this window!), but am really wondering how other people cope. I find it a challenge, to say the least, to juggle the Screamerpillar and the Vaughnpire - it seems that if one isn't melting down, well, they both are.

Nights are going better - V goes to bed like a champ at 7:30 - throw him in his crib, give him a kiss, and he's all set till 6:30. A is more challenging - she reeeally doesn't like going to sleep, but once she's out for the night (usually around 9), she wakes up around 1 and 4, then is up for the day at about 7. Chris is really being amazing at doing the Vaughn Routine in the morning, since I'm busy at that point feeding Ailsa, but we're going to have to figure something out soon...something about Chris being late every day...!

All in all, I'm a bit of a soggy mess, and sometimes only call Chris once a day, crying. But I have faith that at 6 weeks, she'll be an angel baby. It could happen, right?

Right?

Ok, it's time to get out your Mortimer* and follow along at home!

Vaughn's 18 month stats are as follows:

• weighing in at 26 lbs (whoa!), he's just under the 50th percentile; and
• heighting in at 32 inches, he's between the 50th and 75th!

MY child! Above normal for height! Can you believe it?

I SWEAR that nobody posed Vaughn for this - he just plopped down beside his little sister and mugged for the camera, or the "cheeeese" as he calls it.

Speaking of words, he's up to about 100 identifiable words - a lot of them come out of nowhere - he'll point to something, name it, and leave Chris and I wondering what else he knows that he's not telling us! If he gets stuck, all he needs to do is say "pleeeeeease" and make the sign for please and look up at us beseechingly. It works on nice grocery-store-sample ladies when Mommy's not looking, to get cookies, ice cream, you name it! Little stinker.

He also says "potty" or "pee pee", just after he's peed in his diaper! Well, it's a start.

And this photo, well, this is what I love about the Vaughnster - it just sums up his personality perfectly! The world may be ending, but everything is still awesome.

And finally, although he stole the iPod from Grandpa, he gets his moves from Mommy:

*Any other 80s kids out there that get this reference?

Proud to Introduce...

Our beautiful daughter, Ailsa* Christine, arrived with a bang on Thursday, June 3rd at 5:41 am.

Weighing 6 lbs 14 oz and measuring 19.6 inches long, she has gorgeous grey-blue eyes and a soft head of dark hair and looks quite like her handsome big brother!

Assorted snaps from the hospital:

Proud Daddy holds his little princess.

Big brother is enthralled by his little sister! He says "baby" whenever he's trying to find her, and can say "Ailsa" quite clearly, too!

Let's not discuss labour and delivery, shall we?

She looks like a little doll when she's asleep, and -- waitaminute! What's that sign?

Apparently, Medicine Hat babies are like Gremlins...

* Many, many questions: It's Scottish, and it's pronounced "Elsa".

Week 35: Grow with the Flow

(alternate title: Pun in the Oven)

Well, somehow, despite the laws of nature, I still grow. The belly now has its own area code, as it has surpassed the bounds of what is decent, and definitely what I considered possible. It's sitting lowish, but also sort of pointy, and just looks odd. I still don't seem to have put on any extra bulk elsewhere, which is good, but I know that means nothing, once I'm all deflated again and impatiently waiting for everything to snap back into place.* Weight-wise, I'm currently 5 lbs less than I was at this point last time (yet I'm still up 20% of my starting weight!), but have 2 extra inches of girth.

At 5 weeks to go, my sense of humour (along with most of my tops) is getting quite stretched. I'm unwieldy and uncomfortable (and no, still no sign of that winch - maybe I should have registered for one), and am having to pee much more often every day...the peequency (ha!) has increased to (hopefully) its maximum. Not that I've been getting up in the middle of the night to pee, like everyone complains about - nope, I refuse. I often wake up, think about it, and decide that I'd rather lie there and reeeeally have to pee than actually get up to do it. It's all mental fortitude, mind over bladder if you will... until the night that it turns into mind-if-I-turn-over-the-mattress, that is. The plastic cover goes on this weekend.

I'm a single girl right now - my snossage fingers can't squeeze into my rings anymore! Just this week, I noticed some swelling, and yesterday, the Rings of Respectability were relegated to the Chain of Shame around my neck.

I'm also single because Australia's a very long way away, though Chris assured me that 1) it is a very, very important trip that he absolutely needs to go on, and 2) I won't go into labour till he gets back...in two weeks. Phew! At least I have his reassurance! The quickest return flight combo is 26 hours, and since I've informed him (and anyone who will listen) that labour will not last 26 hours -- let alone 32 -- this time, I Plan on just leaving him a note on the counter when I go into the hospital. He is not amused.

Speaking of the Plan, I am a Very Organized Person.

Really, you ask? Does this mean that you have 'Lump v2.0's room all set up, the wee little clothes and diapers all sorted and neatly folded, the curtains made, your hospital bag packed?

No, silly! It means that I have a flow chart that describes whom to call when, when I actually go into labour!

Seriously. I made a flow chart.

Only one option leads to PANIC, which is good. But how many disorganized, panic-stricken people on a deadline do you know that actually take the time to make a flow chart, when there's so much other stuff to do?**

We DO have all the newborn cloth diapers and clothes (in boxes, in orange, yellow and green!), a crib (in a box in the basement; the guest bed is still in the 'Lump's room), and a Plan for decorating (of which I still have to order the decals and buy the material for the curtains, though the room is painted, at least), and another Plan to drive for 7 hours to go to IKEA for a new dresser for V so that the newbie can have the change table (what a great idea, at 38 weeks preggers, and with a small vampire in the back seat!) (kaff). What could possibly go wrong?

Maybe I need another flow chart.

* Ha ha, "snap".

** Exactly. I must be Very Organized.

Sweet Toddler Skillz

It's been a big week for the V-man! Daddy went away for 8 days, leaving a baby behind, and came home to a full-on toddler.

New signs:

• Drink
• Milk
• Bath (he gets soooo excited to have a bath!)
• Please
• Ouch

New words:

• Nose
• Ducky
• Tattoo (why Chris taught him "tattoo" has still to be explained to me...)
• Daddy (his favourite word - not "dada" but Daddy)
• Car (he'll look out the back window and point to one and say, "car", unprompted)
• Ball

New teeth:

• He's got all of his 1st-year molars in, and is working on two little canine buds (he's a vampire-in-training) on the top.

And he walks like a pro!

Unfortunately, with Toddler Skillz comes toddler behaviour. Eek. There have been a few meltdowns involving removal of a phone, a broom, a remote, a pen, etc. from his hot little hands. Or, more frequently, due to removal of a diaper (and re-diapering) from his cute little bottom.

Overall, though, for a vampire-in-training, he's still quite delightful.

We'll keep him.

Best Case Scenario

Ok, so further to the sugar test I took about two weeks ago, OF COURSE I was called back in to the doctorb's office.

Let's start at the beginning. The doctorb (the "b" stands for bargain!) gave me my lab requisition form and said that I was due for my gestational diabetes (GD) screen and a syphilis test.

Um, what?

Apparently, in Alberta at least, they now test for syphilis in each trimester. As was explained to my young doctorb in med school, three rules apply when doctoring weemen:

1. All women are pregnant until proven otherwise;


2. I forget; and


3. All women are liars.
   

There's obviously some kind of bitterness in this man's history, but the lesson stuck with my doctorb, so here we go.

I go home with the form, do the one-hour test (meh, not bad), and three days later, lo and behold, there's a message on my voicemail telling me that I need to come back in to see the doctorb. Bleah.

So, of course I'm a bit stressed, since they haven't said why.

"No worries," sez Chris. "It's for the best. And I'm sure it's just your sugar, like last time."

Um... let's see. The Best Case Scenario is that I have to fast for 12 hours, go in for the three-hour glucose tolerance test (heretofore referred to as the g-d GD test) (again, the last one was no fun), get stabbed and drained repeatedly, and end up bruised and bitter, only to find out that my glucose tolerance is just fine, and I've wasted half a day sitting still in an uncomfortable chair, hungry and thirsty and feeling my breath worsen and cavities form. And that's the Best Case Scenario.

Next best is actually being diagnosed with g-d GD, being forced to meet with a "dietician" again, being restricted from any and all forms of sugary deliciousness, having extra ultrasounds to make sure the 'lump is doing ok, pricking my finger several times a day to check my blood sugar levels, possibly injecting myself with insulin, and maybe even being induced early for the 'lump's well-being, who may or may not end up with blood sugar issues itself.

The Worst Case Scenario, of course, is Divorce, Due to Syphilis.

Anyhoo, I call the clinic back first thing the next morning, and ask what it's about.

"We can't tell you results over the phone," she said.

"Oh dear," I said. "It's that bad? I have syphilis?"

"Fine," she said. "It's your sugar."

Heh heh.

SO, I booked Friday off for Laboratory Testing and Project Management coursework. I fasted (at 8:15 pm on Thursday night, I looked at the clock and realized that I had forgotten to binge on anything and everything in the kitchen...dammit), and showed up late to my 8 am appointment. (After all, you don't make a pregnant woman fast, then expect her to actually remember her lab req form that she laid out on the counter so she wouldn't forget it until she's at least halfway to the clinic, right?)

I drank my icky-sweet juice, I sat, I was poked and bled, I studied, and eventually got home, via McDonald's. Hey, it was past 11 am, and I was STARVING.

So far, no call from the doctorb. So, perhaps everything is just dandy, and it's the Best Case Scenario after all.

Kaff.

20 weeks: Huffalump v 2.0 Photoshoot

Well, the 20-week ultrasound went well. The tech kept saying, "Whoa, it's active!" and "Did your first one move around this much?"



Sigh.



Yes, yes it did.

I'm feeling lots and lots of rolls, nudges, pokes and kicks now (last night, right till 2 am! Yay!), and Chris has felt a few as well... but that might have just been something he ate. Ha ha!


I haven't been able to SEE the kicks from the outside yet, but I'm sure it's not very far off.



Anyway, all measurements went well, and we're very excited to announce that it's a...








... Baby!



Nope, we're not finding out this time either, so you'll all just have to wait and see what kind of demon we produce in June! Complaints may be directed to my assistant, Fis.

10 Months and All is ... Well...

Well, I'm winding down this fabulous adventure I like to refer to as "maternity leave". I have two more weeks with my special little guy, half of which he'll be spending transitioning to daycare. Snif.

The transitioning is going really well - for him, anyway. I sobbed for the whole 4 hours on the first day I dropped him off, but have got the sobbing down to a minimum, and find that lying very still or napping helps pass the time in my empty, echoey house. Snif. Getting out of the house just puts me in the company of other moms with THEIR babies, at the mall, at Costco, etc, which leads to sogginess, naturally. He seems to be having a great time, eating and napping well, and doesn't seem to care one way or another when I show up to pick him up! Ingrate.

Seriously, though, I'm very happy that I found a good dayhome for him (right in our neighbourhood, and very highly recommended... AND she's a Newf!), and that he's settling in well. Next week, we'll be stretching his hours out a little longer, and possibly trying one or two all-day visits... with my commute, he'll be there from about 7:20 till 5:15 or so. Waaaaah! My little boy will be calling someone else Mommy! Well, when he can talk, anyway.

That's another problem. The current routine, which starts at about 6:30 am, gets Vaughn and I fed, washed, brushed, and half of us (the smaller half) dressed -- by 8. I think we'll need to work on our speed. Or maybe skip the hygiene part of the morning.

Moving on to happier stuff:

• I start back at work in two weeks instead of one, because my wonderful husband (hope he's not reading this...no need to swell his head) will be travelling for the whole week I was supposed to start back... which naturally sent me into meltdown mode -- how the heck can he expect me to abandon-my-baby-and-leave-him-for-10-hours-and-then-drive-for-50-km-sobbing-on-a-highway... so he said, what if I used up some points and brought you two along? Yay! Crisis averted... for a week.
  
• The V-man is crawling! Not just that happy little frog scamper that I love, but actual hands-and-knees crawling! ...for about 4 steps... then back to the scamper. Yeah!
  
• The pulling up to standing and cruising continues.
  
• His bathrobe fits! (see above) I didn't think it ever would.
  
• His "best" (?) new trick is begging. I swear, if you even think of having a snack outside of regulated snacktimes, he is suddenly at your knee, looking up at you and growling endearingly (which is weird, but awfully cute)... and because it's so cute, Chris and I can't help but give in and share every time, reinforcing this adorable bad habit.

Anyhoo, life continues, and this blog will either see a lot more activity (since I'll be back at work, ha ha), or a drastic drop-off. I'll try to share any fantastic newsiness, though.

7 months: Butt seriously...

Could he get any cuter?

9 weeks old: Fashion File

Though some may say that mixing horizontal stripes with animal prints is a recipe for disaster, I think it's just a matter of the right attitude combined with the right body.

Below, Tarzan Baby models what the runway models only dream of. Eat your heart out, Kate Moss!


Along with the thumb-sucking (yay for self-soothing!), the smiling is coming along very well, along with lots and lots of different sounds and vocalizations, including our favourite, "happy squeak", which will be a giggle in no time, I'm sure!







Hey, what's the best thing in the world? Daddy Time! When Daddy's home, Vaughn has eyes for nothing else...unless one of Gordon Ramsay's shows is on tv. Here's hoping that his first word isn't ...

His new skill (as of yesterday) is tracking the stars hanging from the mobile (thank you, Andra and Chris!) - he's able to focus on them as they revolve, even in just the glow of his nightlight. He's totally happy and mesmerized by it, and if he could talk, he would definitely be screaming, "This is AWESOME!!!!"

Tummy time is still a challenge, since, apparently, we're trying to kill him, but his neck strength and head control are really good, as long as he's not overtired.

All in all, we're all feeling much better -- we're well-rested (5-6 hours of sleep in a row, almost every night), and happy babies DO make for happy parents. Even if Vaughn doesn't think it's bedtime, after the initial protests (what? you want to read me a book? I know what's coming! you can't do this to me! this is an outrage!!!), once he's in his crib, he's ridiculously happy, which tricks us into staying with him and trying to lull him to sleep. It's so hard, when he's grinning from ear to ear, babbling away, and waving his little hands around! Little stinker.

Finally, International Man of Mystery, Count Von Huff, will be globetrotting quite soon, so we've procured a passport for him. Whoa. Guess how much fun THAT photoshoot was! Everyone survived. I wish I could post a clear image, but this is the best I could do without a scanner.

7 weeks: All By Myself / Holy Crap!

After 6 weeks of constant togetherness and teamwork, my better, taller half has gone away. He's been travelling for the past 10 days, and won't be home for 2 more.

I've got to say, I don't know how single moms do this; I spend all day and all night with the little pooper at my side, and it's tough.

It was quite a transition, to go from Chris being with me 24/7, getting on each other's nerves, to him being completely gone, and all the responsibility for Vaughn to be on my shoulders, not to mention finding the time and inclination to dress/shower/feed myself. There were some breakdowns (most notably the first night I was alone with the little guy), and I questioned my abilities to make sure this helpless little thing was getting what he needed, felt bad that he was stuck with such an awkward parent as myself, and kept repeating over and over to myself and to anyone that would listen how hard this was.

But as of today (the second day of a relatively good sleep at night: 10 pm - 3 am / 4 am - 7:30 am...to die for!), I've come to understand that this period of intense immersion in all things Vaughn has been good for me.

I'm gaining confidence as a mom.

I'm beginning to figure out what he wants, and how his natural rhythms flow. I've discovered that at exactly an hour and a half after he wakes up from a nap (give or take 2 - 3 minutes, literally), he needs another nap, and during that nap, I have 60 - 90 minutes to get things done. (I'm not quite mastering the cloth diapering, but there's an improvement), that, by 1 pm, he wants to sleep longer, and that, by 6 pm, he wants to stay up and be cranky.

I'm figuring out that when he's cranky at other times "for no reason", there's often a bubble that needs to come out, and also that he's an aggressive snuggler - he will leave no cranny left unsnuggled! If I want him to have a longer nap, I just need to make him nap on me.

And I'm discovering that he has the cutest, most radiant, heart-melting smile that makes the past 7 weeks all worthwhile (still to be properly captured on camera; the below shot's a bit goofy)...and I'm learning how to coax it out of him.

So, in my "spare time", I've managed to do a few loads of laundry, keep the bedroom clean, eat 3 times a day, thanks in part to very generous friends who have brought me food or invited me over for dinner, and I also managed to watch the 6th season of the Family Guy.

Like my little Huffalump, it's freakin' sweet.