Atomic Tonic

Niclas is totally beating me, though. I'm only dilated to a 2. He was dilated to at least 7 this morning, and that was before the eye drops.

We went to the ER last night, not because of the pregnant lady, but because at 10pm, Niclas returned from the bathroom, sat on the couch and said "I can't see. No vision." and I laughed hysterically like isn't that just The Funniest Thing. Except he couldn't see and because we have the internet at our disposal, I was able to type "sudden vision loss" into google and FREAK OURSELVES OUT. Retinal Detachment. Glaucoma. RETINAL DETACHMENT.

So we went to the ER to see about his vision loss and ice-pick headache. It was a wash, basically, except the Doctor on call told him to go see a man about his eyes in the morning. Which brings us up to this morning and the 3 hours we spent in the Eye Doctor's office and the little chart we found in the office while waiting (so much waiting) that had the handy dilation chart on the bottom. It showed that his pupils were dilated to 7 and didn't show that the headache was OUT OF CONTROL. Then the eye doctor put some drops in to dilate him even more and flashed a lot of lights around the place.

Turns out, he's got a migraine and we're now sitting around in the dark. No, I mean literally. All the shades are drawn, lights are off. The headache is possibly a side-effect of the bus accident we were in three years ago, most certainly incredibly painful. But at least his retina is attached. RIGHT?

Matilda's Swedish Grandmother and Aunt arrived on Thursday night. I was a little worried that all they were going to see of Matilda was the back of her head for a week and a 1/2, what with the previous four weeks of constant eating. Thankfully, Matilda has been in rare social form so far. Niclas changed her diaper and with an audience of 6, she kicked her chicken legs and made adorable infant faces and basically was as cute as humanly possible in something not nearly big enough to be considered a human. *wipes brow*

She's also continued to use the pacifier. I think this is the first official instance of I Can't Believe I Have a Kid Who Does That. And I can't believe I'm the mother who gets up from the dinner table to shove the pacifier back in her mouth when she pushes it out and starts making noises. Am totally that mother. What? It's either that or I'm eating risotto with my boob hanging out and I'd really like to keep The Mystery alive for someone I meet in the next few months. My only hope is that we wean Matilda off the pacifier before she hits the toddler years.

Now we can talk about me. Went to the gym again yesterday. 20 minutes on a cross trainer and aside from having to blow my nose the entire time, it went a little better. The yellow brick road is long, but at least I'm on it. Plus, I made an appointment to color my hair. Last time I did this was 11 months ago, so you can imagine how overdue this is. VERY OVERDUE.

- In a blue lighted Billy Bed sleeping bag to counteract her jaundice
- Forced to lie on a travel-size Billy Bed spatula-like light at home for one night
- To the neighborhood golf course
- Around the block twice
- Back to the hospital where she was born, to delivery candy
- To my OB/GYN's office to drop off some books
- To the pediatrician 5 times (two different Doctors, one Lactation Consultant, two locations, same practice)
- To Babies R Us, Marshall's, Whole Foods, Star Market and the mall, twice
- To a Mexican restaurant and a seaside pub for lunch (she nursed at the latter, slept through the former)
- Introduced to three different kinds of pacifiers (she is only interested in the one that came from the hospital. Good thing it's got a website url on it so we were able to order more for when we LOSE THIS ONE. Because you know that will happen)
- Put down for a nap in two different laundry baskets (unsuccessfully)
- Put down for a nap on Papa, myself, Ninnie (Swedish grandmother) and in her carseat (successfully)
- Dressed in the same two newborn-size sleep sacs as they were the only things that fit her until her Ninnie breezed into town and took in some of her outfits to make them small enough for The Walnut to wear:

And I'm not getting much sleep. See if you can find the irony in this:

Matilda is a good sleeper. I'd say she wakes up to nurse on average 3 times a night. Since she's lying right next to me, I hear her waking up and get her situated to nurse before she has a chance to get riled up. She nurses, pops herselp off, I roll her onto her back and we both drift back to sleep.

Two nights ago, on the way to bed, I noticed that I had the beginnings of a clogged milk duct. *OW* It woke me up at 3:30AM with THE PAIN and I in turn woke up the baby to nurse. (Things to do with a clogged milk duct: Massage it, apply heat and NURSE.) But the baby was done long before my boob had stopped THROBBING. So at 4AM, I went downstairs to pump. Too bad the pumping did me no good and I was left with a throbbing breast. Which refused to let me sleep.

Yesterday, the clog on the left started to go away to make room for THE ONE ON THE RIGHT. Right! Clogged milk duct in the right breast. This is awesome, right?

Got rid of that one yesterday by nursing all day during Matilda's first party. We had a party for her yesterday. Family and friends were all here. For her party. And I nursed her in the middle of the room for the majority of the party.

Got rid of that clog! During the party!

OMG though, right? Woke up in the early hours this morning with a new clog on the right and the entire left breast clogged. No really, THE ENTIRE THING. Is hard and hot and painful AND I WANT TO CUT IT OFF TO MAKE THE PAIN STOP.

Basically, right, this blows. The fact that I know exactly how much breast tissue I have, because all the breast tissue I have is SWOLLEN AND ANGRY, is not interesting enough to make up for the pain this is causing.

Last night, Matilda's forehead met my collarbone with a *THWACK* and we hit another in a long line of milestones. Now under our collective belt: Her first crying jag from hurting herself. It didn't last long and was mostly the surprise of it that caused the wail, but still. We now have smiles and tears and boo-boos that need Band-Aids.

Today, she is Distressed. The pediatrician was not kidding around when he said Week Six is the height of crank. OMG y'all, she's cranky. We have a swing, a vibrating chair, a yoga ball we bounce her on, a Baby Bjorn, a sling, her carseat and the king of all mobiles in her crib and it's nothing doing. Technically, the yoga ball has quieted her down today, but since that requires one of us to hold her to our chest and bounce her, I'm not counting it. That's manual labor. Also out: My boobs, which actually failed to comfort her for the first time today.

Poor thing.

Crank aside, parentood has been fairly easy for us so far, on account of (at least) two things:

1) Niclas works from home. Because he makes his own hours, the pressure is off the sleeping schedules a bit, as if it's bad at night, he can sleep in the following morning. His working from home also means that I've been able to shower and shave everyday. Ho boy, that makes a world of difference.

2) My mother has been our personal shopper/cleaner/cook and caterer the last month and a half. While I have been to a grocery store since Matilda was born, it wasn't because we actually needed to grocery shop. I can't possibly re-count all the meals she's prepared for us. She's cleaned the kitchen and emptied the dishwasher and folded the laundry and brought me bottles of seltzer. She catered Matilda's party the other day. She cleaned up after it.

We've got it really good. The fact that Matilda is going to nurse my nipples right off my body is just a minor detail.

I once played Monopoly by myself because, as an only child, I didn't have any siblings to play with me.

I don't point this out because I wanted siblings but because I turned into an adult that doesn't like playing games. Years ago, I was forced to play a game of Trivial Pursuit Pop Culture Edition with three Irish siblings, one American and the Irish sister's very drunk Scottish boyfriend.

Ok. We were all very drunk. But I was sober enough to make sure that the Scottish boyfriend saw the answer side of the card to every question I asked him. It being the Pop Culture edition of the game and that edition being solely American culture, he didn't have a chance in hell of getting anything right. But with my help and often a finger marking the line of the correct answer, the game was over in, like, 20 minutes. And everyone else was too drunk to consider how odd that was.

I cheat so the torture will end. So you can imagine my surprise when my mother taught us how to play Mahjong today and I liked it. Didn't cheat at all.

Incidently, I won the Monopoly game. And I lost.

Two days ago, after three days of rice cereal, we introduced Matilda to her first real food. Avocado:

Last night, after a road trip to visit the relatives (that's next), we stripped Matilda down to her size 1-2 diaper with Ernie on the front and propped her outside in her temporary booster seat (while we wait for her Bumbo Seat to arrive) and fed her rice cereal and avocado. We think this was her fourth meal (our math skills are lacking) but we know this was the meal in which she understood eating. By the end of the meal, she was opening her mouth in anticipation of the next spoonful.

Here she is thinking about the meal before it happened:

She looks downright chubby in this shot. Don't ruin the moment for me.

Working backwards, the day began with a two hour car trip to CT. She used the time wisely and pieced together the-hands-come-together-with-the-toy-and-they-all-go-into-the-mouth thing:

She did surprisinly well in the car. That is not to say there was no screaming or no explosive squash soup all-over-my-hand-and-the-carseat poop or more than a few miles of highway she spent nursing. The visual on that would be me on all fours arched over the car seat with one or the other flap of my Target Nursing Camisole unsnapped and YES I GOT SOME FUNNY LOOKS.

But for a kid who hates the car like poison, she did really well. Here's what we traveled all that way for:

and

Regarding her transition to the crib. She seems to be a quick learner and after a few naps and two nights of having an actual bedtime and spending those sessions wailing and kicking off the bumper and flipping front-to-back and back-to-front and front-to-back like she's Jackie Chan (she does her own stunts), she has resigned herself to her fate.

She had her dinner last night and then a bath I mean COME ON look at that mess and then a little quiet nursing in her room. Then I leaned over the railing of the crib and placed her in it without breaking her seal (call Cirque du Soleil) and let her continue to nurse for a minute. Then the hair dryer went on and Niclas and I both closed our eyes in Matilda's direction and damned if she didn't roll over onto her side and imitate us. She fell asleep in her Hanson Brothers onsie (Go Chiefs!) and remained that way until two o'clock in the morning.

I wanted to take pictures of her lying there with the bloody Hanson Brothers splashed across her chest, but one does not disturb the sexy.

Hello from Sverige! We're having a great time! Wish you were here!

Matilda is on Swedish time and napping like a champ. Currently napping in her pouch WHICH HAS SAVED ME ALREADY ABOUT EIGHT TIMES. Travel does a job on the nap times of the very young (but no longer very small) and this pouch, it keeps stepping in. Matilda gets dumped into it ass first and three minutes later she's out cold.

Leaves me with my hands free to order another ice cream.

She's been enjoying Swedish baby cereal and retro doorway jumpers and the Swedish relatives. As of this morning, she's peed on just about everyone but Sarah. Been to the beach four times now. Keeps sleeping through it.

But the pouch keeps her out of the sun, so sleeping on the beach isn't a bad idea.

This morning Matilda pooped in her diaper for the first time this week. It's not that traveling backs her up (that'd be my problem), it's that she's been pooping in the toilet. This morning she pooped in her diaper because the bathroom was occupied and I didn't think her Swedish grandmother really wanted her pooping on her rose bushes.

We're nowhere near having her out of diapers because we certainly miss a lot of peeing but the missing is our fault. We're lazy. But everytime we bother to get off our butts and put her on the toilet, she pees. EVERY. TIME. These babies, they are smart. They are quick learners. I can really recommend the Infant Potty Training.

Folks, if for nothing else than the poopy diaper I had to change this morning made me gag just a little.

ANYWAY. Check out the towheads.

Can you stand it? BECAUSE I CAN'T.

I've been back at work for 11 week days. Matilda has taken to greeting me upon my return home by putting her hands on my face, opening her mouth and dragging herself towards me to suck on my nose. The first time she did it, the nose sucking, Niclas tried to get her to suck on his nose as well. She wasn't having it.

The nose sucking has quickly branched out into shoulder and arm sucking (she doesn't discriminate with that) and this morning, she gave me raspberries on my shoulder. Then I had to brush my teeth and run to catch a train.

Still bitter about having to leave her during the week. Not only is it cutting into my time with her, it's cutting into my time to write about her. Some things I haven't had time to write about:

Last weekend, she took two road trips for a total of 8 hours in the car. She slept through 7 of those hours. She met relatives there and over there and then met more here during the week.

She discovered her bottom lip and has taken to sucking it in. She babbles now and also SCREAMS just because she is capable of it and not because anything is wrong. For four days this week, she had a three person babysitting triangle. They fed her and put her in the kiddie pool. They rubbed her ear lobe to get her to nap. They danced like back-up singers while she bounced in her doorway jumper and generally loved her all up.

We've kept her up past her bedtime multiple nights in a row this week. If we manage to get her into bed at a reasonable hour, she tends to sleep through the night. (7 to 7!) When we've kept her up past the eye-rubbing and fussing, she has slept badly and woke often.

This past week, she's been naked in a normal-sized pool and sat on a floatation device. She sucked on frozen wash cloths and had cantelope and then watermelon through a mesh food bag. She tasted ice cream and drank out of a cup. She outgrew her newborn-sized onsies -- too long! Last night she ate dinner outside so as to watch the 9 (nine) kids in attendance for the evening. Then she went to bed in pajamas for the first time and I turned on her baby monitor as I wasn't sure I'd hear her over the 9 kids, 9 adults and Lara Croft Cradle of Life.

I could put my ear to the baby monitor and hear nothing from her but the entire conversation at the kitchen table and Lara Croft Cradle of Life. She slept soundly till 7 this morning.

This weekend she's back to just the two of us and boy is she going to be bored.

So y'all could see the photographic progression of our week.

It entailed three states, two birthday parties, 48 dips in the kiddie pool, 3 naps a day,

about a million kisses and

more relatives than you can shake a stick at.

On Friday afternoon I left my office a little after 4 to catch a 4:30 commuter train to get to daycare and pick Matilda up before the 5:30 cut off when they, I don't know, put any babies still there out on the sidewalk.

I got to the commuter line to find that the trains to my destination were not running. I sat on the 4 o'clock train that should not have been there for an hour and a half, quietly freaking out (OK not that quietly) and calling first my mother to pick her up, then Niclas to help me think, then our neighbors then daycare then a friend for a shoulder and then Niclas and then the neighbors and then the daycare again. Then I got off the train and got instead on the T to meet Niclas at his office and drive with him to the airport to pick up Matilda's grandmother and then, THEN we finally got home to Matilda, who was watching the news in our neighbor's living room, after 7 o'clock.

Friday was not a great day for the commuting. I might have lost an hour of my life and I mean an hour at the end of my life and not the three hours I lost getting home.

Anyway!

Matilda's grandmother flew in from Sweden on Friday. On Saturday morning, we all went to Matilda's first music class.

On Monday we all went to the aquarium. We brought Matilda's new stroller which means we carried her and pushed the stroller full of winter coats and bags through swarms of parents pushing strollers full of clothes and carrying babies, just like us.

Matilda loved the aquarium because the place was swarming with kids. The penguins were pretty cool though

and we managed to direct her attention towards the starfish

and the jelly fish for brief periods of time.

Yesterday Matilda, her Swedish grandmother and I sat in the Pediatrician's waiting room while kids with flushed cheeks barfed left right and center. We were there because Matilda has ear infections again. She was given yet another prescription for antibiotics and told we can't get her ear surgery done until the infections are gone but might I point out that the infections are never gone? And might I dare to hope that none of us will catch the barfing that was roaming the waiting room in small plastic kidney-shaped bowls?

THANK YOU COOPERATE.

Halloween Season kick-off parade was tonight. We went. I made us all dress up.

Niclas wanted to wear the costume the least. And that's saying something.

We've been busy watching our baby turn into a kid over here. I call Matilda baby all the time (I also call her peanut butter, peanut pie, cheesecake and pumpkin pie) and yet, she was never a pumpkin pie and is no longer a baby. She is a kid. We can ask her what she wants for dinner and she will yell into the kitchen to whoever is standing there waiting for her requests "Uhh. Soup and yogurt and milk and grapes." She starts a lot of sentences with "uhh." I don't think she got that from me. If she was starting her sentences with "Oh for fuck sake," well. That I could probably take credit for. But the "uhh" seems to be all her. There's a lot that's all her. That's the kid part.

I know she's had a will since she was born

but the will now has a vocabulary and mobility. The will has a memory and movie requests. The will now has bona-fide friends and different relationships with those friends. The will has "her people" and sweeping hand gestures. The hand gestures destroy me with the cute, but it's her relationships with people that really take the cake.

We lie in bed at night discussing what she did that day and it always comes down to who she saw. New Year's Day it was all about Sam as she'd spent that morning and the previous night with Sam, hysterical with delight and full of "hoppa hoppa hoppa" on the couch and the air mattress and naked running and screeching and man, those kids wore each other out.

Last night we discussed her people Jack. Jack is a year younger. Usually Matilda skates right over the younger in search of the older, but she likes Jack. She brings him up out of the blue. She pays attention to him when they are together, which is not a given. With some kids, she knows and talks about them but ignores them when given the opportunity to play with them. But Jack. Jack she's got a thing for, I think. She tries to take his hand and walk with him, but Jack isn't that steady on his feet yet so that doesn't work so much. But she tries. And she remembers him. She sweeps her hand through the air and talks about "my people Jack."

She talks about all her people. Her people Pepe and Mimi and Megot who she hasn't seen since the middle of December.

She talks about her grandmothers Ninnie and Emmie and her grandfathers Wacka and Dampa. She initiates these conversations. She brings up her cousin Ryan to tell me "eat ice" and "I eat water" because the last time she saw Ryan, they ate ice cream and Ryan goaded her into eating her bathwater.

She also tells us periodically that "all people eat" and "all people sleep" and now, of course, "all people poop." All with grand sweeping hand gestures.

Matilda nursed until she was about a year and a half old. The end was mostly for comfort and only before naps and bedtime. And when she was sick. Or when we were home. Or if she saw me without a shirt on.

I finally cut her off for good when her nursing hurt me so much, because I was pregnant, my immediate reaction was to throw her across the room.

As soon as she stopped nursing, she got attached to Baby. Her Ninnie made it for her and she'd had it for months without more than a passing glance.

As soon as she noticed Baby, her clothes came off. Now, a year after baby was sewn up, she's a wet hot mess. Matilda dances with her, feeds her, puts her on the potty and to bed. Put purple marker eyeshadow on her last week. Talks about putting a diaper on her but won't follow through with it. Baby goes everywhere with Matilda.

I worry about the state of Baby. She's got silver glitter glue on one arm and something sticky on the other. She's got tahini on her back and juice all over her face. She's stuffed with wool so cleaning her is a spot job. I'm also starting to worry about Matilda's demands regarding Baby. Because Baby goes everywhere Matilda does, sometimes Matilda needs to hand her off so she can poke the cookie dough

or jump on her trampoline or draw or eat or any number of things. This is worrisome because she hands Baby to me, "hold Baby," and won't let me put her down. Twice today I had to shove Baby down the front of my already bulging shirt so I could finish making the cookies and start making the dinner.

I made Matilda a pouch for Baby and I'm hoping she picks up on that once she sees me carrying the new kid in my pouch as I'm just not prepared to carry a doll around along with a toddler and a newborn.

Baking for kids

I told Matilda last night before she fell asleep that we'd bake something today. After story-time at the library and a two hour nap, we cracked open the cookbooks to find a decent cookie to make. We found Marta's Chocolate Slices.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Grease a cookie sheet.
Combine and mix:

3/4 cup butter
1 cup sugar
2 cups flour
1/4 cup powdered cocoa
1 tsp. baking powder
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla
2 eggs

Divide dough into 6 pieces. Form into logs and flatten slightly. Place on cookie sheet. Brush with:

1 egg, beaten

Sprinkle top with pearl sugar. Bake on center rack for about 15 minutes. Cut into 3/4 inch wide diagonal slices while still warm.

These things are easy breezy. I'll be adding them to my baking rotation for sure.

We're home. We're all fine. Matilda loves her sister to the point of jumping, literally, for joy.

Linnea Beatrix Rose. 6 pounds, 13 ounces. 19.5 inches long. Born 12:14am, February 7th.

The birth story, it's a good one. Stick around.

We gave both our kids two middle names. Matilda's are Emelia Rose. We were originally going to give Linnea "Beatrix Violet" but we started talking this morning, an hour before we left the hospital, about how the names don't flow. Started joking about using Rose instead. And then we stopped joking. Why not? If they ever get married or for any reason change their last names, they'll still have the Rose to connect them.

Matilda Emelia Rose and Linnea Beatrix Rose.

Of note before we begin: My labor with Matilda lasted 20 hours. I went into labor with her open to a non-medicated birth. I got an epidural 12 hours into it which most certainly slowed things down. The epidural was so strong I never felt the urge to push and could not feel anything when I was pushing. It took just over three hours to get her out.

I went into this labor knowing it'd probably go a little faster. I also wanted to try a little harder to go drug-free.

Tuesday morning, February 6th, I wake up thinking "That's it! Today's the day!" Get up with Matilda, have breakfast. Vacuum the downstairs, mop the kitchen floor, oil the butcher block island. Clean up the toys and books and magazines. Plump the pillows on the couch. Then I sit around while something but nothing happens all day. Go to bed at 10 assuming things are *thisclose* but not quite.

Twice contractions wake me up. I wonder if I'll be able to get much sleep.

Wake up gushing water. Jump out of bed and note the clock -- few minutes before 11. By the time I return from the bathroom, I am freezing. Shivering uncontrollably. Goosebumps on my legs. Call my OB who asks if I'm ok as I sound paniced. I say I am fine but taken by surprise. She reminds me that contractions don't start just because your water breaks. I tell her I know that but seeing as I've already had three since I dialed her number, it's safe to assume I'm in labor. She suggests I time them and she'll call back in half an hour. Hang up with her and call my mother who lives half an hour away. Tell her to get a move on. Get in the shower as we have 30 minutes to kill and I am still freezing. Give up counting contractions in the shower once I hit double digits. At this point, they are significantly more painful than they'd been all day. I tell Niclas that the difference between before and after your water breaks is the width of an ocean.

I put some clothes on and post to the blog on the laptop Niclas has perched on the bathroom sink. Then I fall to the floor with a contraction. And another. And another. And they just. kept. coming. and I am roller coaster. Not on a roller coaster. I am the roller coaster. Screaming through them like a triple loop amusement park ride. My hair is wet I didn't have time to comb it it's falling in my face and I'm sweating. Matilda comes into the bathroom wide-eyed and scared. I tell her I'm ok. In pain but it's ok. I'm going to have a baby. OB calls back. Niclas relays to me her question. How far apart are the contractions? "Are you kidding?" Another one hits and I'm on all fours on the floor rocking forward and back and I can't bend my arms but resting on my elbows might be better than my hands but I can't move them can't do it howling through a loop and I can feel my body pushing. I don't push back but it's happening anyway. I'm screaming that I want an epidural as soon as we get to the hospital. "Niclas tell the OB that tell her to get that set up I can't do this." Matilda is screaming back at me. Niclas is running up and down the stairs getting ready to go. Matilda chases after him. Comes back in and I'm still howling and now she's wearing socks. Niclas is trying to decide if we're waiting for my mother or if we're taking Matilda with us. Yes. No. I don't know and another one hits and I'm screaming and she's screaming back and I think for a second that I might feel better if I got on the yoga ball and another and another and my mother arrives. Niclas is back upstairs can I get downstairs? I do. Somehow I do. Fall to the floor in the living room for another loop, banging the floor with my fist. The car is on the bags are in it and I get down the stairs without a contraction. Get it the car, front seat facing backwards, kneeling.

We live three minutes from the hospital. Somehow the ride is ok. I get into the lobby at L&D and drop back to the floor. On all fours. Niclas tells the woman behind the desk that I'm in labor. She says yes, a little, huh? White clogs come out, ask if I want a wheelchair. No. No, can't sit, let's go. I get up and walk till another contraction hits. Then I drop back to the floor. On all fours in the hallway of L&D, screaming for an epidural. White clogs takes us to the first room, up and down the whole way, it finally occurs to me that Niclas needs to push on my lower back as hard as he can HARD HARD HARDER. Up and down, into a room. HARDER. On all fours on the floor at the foot of the bed, now there's another pair of shoes, crocs, but where's the epidural. They need me on the bed. I wait for a pause and climb up, still on all fours. They can't get the monitor on to check the baby's heartbeat I can't stop looping I hear the nurses discussing the whereabouts of my OB (not there yet) and I see crocs pull out a glove and some lube and no way can you check me, don't you dare. White clogs tells me she has to, I know this but I AM A ROLLER COASTER. She checks me "She's complete. Head's right there." White clogs tells me there's no time for drugs. I know this too but there's nothing? Nothing I can have? The roller coaster, it's blowing my mind and it loops again and I'm lying on my side howling and clogs is trying to get me to breathe and not push, no pushing and I'm not, not really, but I am I can't help it and then the OB arrives, she's putting on a mask and they're turning me over and the baby monitor, it's resting on my belly they didn't even have time to fasten it but at least they have the heartbeat. They break down the bed and raise it up and they're telling me to lift my butt and then I get to push really and the head, it's crowning just like that and it hurts oh my god that hurts. I reach my hand down between pushs and feel her there, just like that, she's right there, her head. I'm begging them to help me (how?) and pushing as hard as I can because I know the pain is going to get worse before it gets better and it has to get better and help me! Do something. OB tells me she's going to give me a shot of novacaine and it's just like at the dentist, the needle stays in too long and she wiggles it around and then I can feel slightly less and I see her pick up the scissors but I can't feel it and then the pressure releases and the head is out.

OB tells me to push slower, not so fast and I feel her pull down and then a body, an entire body, arms and torso and legs falls out of me.

An entire baby. OB puts her on my stomach. A baby. An hour and 15 minutes after my water breaks, a baby, crying, pink, blonder than Matilda was. Niclas cuts the cord and there's a real live person on the outside of my stomach who was just on the inside. She's bubbling and needs a few hits of the bulb syringe as she came out so fast, her lungs didn't have a chance to get squeezed empty. But she's perfect and out and I'm fine. Totally fine and now I can see the faces of clogs and crocs and we're all laughing and my OB is giving me a hug and I'm thanking her for showing up on time and Niclas pulls out the bag of skor bar I made for the staff and crocs is eating it but she's allergic to peanuts and the skor bar, its got almonds not peanuts but still, where's the key to her locker in case we need her epi pen?

Linnea Beatrix Rose
6 pounds, 13 ounces
19.5 inches long
February 7, 2007, 12:14am

Nursing Round Two is just. Blowing my mind. It's working. Linnea is a week old tomorrow and today she produced actual tears. She's got tears to spare. I'm so relieved that my body is working and thus, so is hers. 'Course, I'm also feeling guilty because it wasn't this easy with Matilda. It was really, really hard with Matilda. She screamed for four months because, at least in part, she was hungry. I spent a lot of time near tears myself trying to figure out if what we were doing was normal or if we were beyond the insanity that is the normal newborn nursing schedule and into something being wrong. She nursed constantly. She hardly ever popped herself off looking content. The day I took this:

I really wanted to believe that it was working. I don't think it was, not enough. I'd break down and give Niclas a bottle to give her when it was either that or cry myself. But if you give them bottles, your supply goes down and if your supply goes down, good luck to you. So I gritted my teeth and stuck it out most of the time and tried so hard for her to be breastfed. After month four, she wasn't exclusively but I nursed her till she was a year and a half old. I didn't give up. I did give in.

This time I made sure we had a can of formula in the house before Linnea was born. There was no way I was going to starve another kid. No way I was going to grit my teeth through all that screaming.

I'm happy to report I don't think we'll be needing the formula.

There's nothing you can do about it

I'm trying to teach Matilda to respond to "How old are you?" with "Relentless" rather than two. Because the child is two and two is relentless. She's finally picked up "No," although she's mostly polite about it. Ask her if she wants some chicken and she responds with "No tank you." Orange? "No tank you." Milk? "No tank you." Yogurt? "No tank you." And on and on until the world ends. That is two. Two goes straight to the end of the world.

Two is also obsessed with her little sister. She wants to see her feet and hold her hands and kiss her head, "puss" she says, and help change her diapers and take her little hats off. She wants to sleep next to her, forehead to forehead. She wants to make sure she holds her between the diaper changes that upset Linnea and the nursing that calms her down. But ask her if she loves her sister and she says "No."

Relentless.

We've been parents for over two years now. We've got two kids in diapers. We own two courier bags, one huge and hugely preppie tote bag, one too-narrow homemade tote bag and a hard-sided too-small Baby Bjorn diaper bag. I tend to throw a few diapers, some wipes and zip-lock baggies of snacks into my handbag as often as possible as I hate all our diaper/non-dipaer bags.

On Monday, I had to lie Linnea on paper towels and change her diaper on the concrete floor of the bathroom in the children's room at the library. I've found my next sewing project. Changing pads. Maybe if I start from the inside out, I'll finally get around to making the diaper bag of my dreams.

Like my bag-making, changing pads are turning out to be a lot like cookies (can't eat just one, can't make just one). I made the first pad yesterday during naps.

I wanted it as small as possible so I could carry it in my handbag. I sewed two layers of flannel into the middle so it's fairly absorbent, but all the layers means it's also fairly thick and since Linnea is already nearly hanging off of it, it's not making the cut. (Not for my bag, but we'll use it at home where we only need something under her bum and not under her head.)

I made the second one last night after both kids were tucked into bed. Matilda in hers, Linnea wedged into the Boppy Pillow on ours.

It's cotton on one side and fleece on the other like the first but this one doesn't have a flannel center. It's also wider and longer, so the tie is on the side. You fold it in half the long way and then roll it up. Next I need to sew up a little pouch for the diapers, wipes, snacks and pad. Right after I sit around and deposit my brains into kleenex today.

It's been two weeks since I've had grandparental back-up. My folks went to India for a wedding. I know right? I've also been fighting Matilda's cold for two weeks. The cold finally won yesterday. My folks returned last night. My mother will be here in an hour or so. I might shower today but only because she'll be here to kid-wrangle.

Five years ago today Niclas and I spent the day lounging by the pool at The Luxor hotel in Vegas.

Around 7pm, we got married by the pool at The Flamingo with a handful of family and friends watching.

Then we had dinner in The Venician, moved to the suburbs and had a couple of kids.

There's so much to talk about. Too bad I have nothing to say. There's Linnea, old enough to play a newborn on tv. Chewing on her hands and rolling onto her back. There's Matilda, picking up new words every hour and wanting the tiny *pinching fingers together* spoon and the tiny block and the tiny toy. There's me asking her who's on the video conference. Her saying "farfar" (father's father) when it's not, it's Niclas' brother, Fredrik.

There's Fredrik, refusing to believe he looks just like his father.

Linnea is four months old. I have no idea how this has happened.

Twice last week she slept from 8 to 5. I'm not complaining, no, it's just. When she does that? I don't get to run because 5am is when I'd leave the house. But you know, not complaining. And I can't really blame her for my lack of motivation this week. I guess I can blame being four months postpartum, but that's me and not her. The hair loss is certanily me. As is the overwhelming desire to eat. Doesn't really matter what it is, I'll eat it. And I'm not even really hungry.

It's a good thing Linnea is cute because four months postpartum is kicking my ass. I'm a wet hot mess and there's so much to tell you but I can't seem to form the sentences. I put Linnea in the car the other day. Got in myself, put the key in the ignition. Released the parking break and noticed that the car was already in drive. On our inclined driveway. I can't even park a car, nevermind organize a paragraph. I will try stringing a bunch of stuff together.

Farfar came to visit. We almost had scabies but then we didn't. I made mexican chocolate ice cream and then marzipan ice cream. I've been wearing the prescription glasses I bought 5 years ago. Am no longer squinting. Went grocery shopping. Explained strawberries to Matilda. Been watching her watch them for signs of doneness since.

Things are hopping over here. Things aside from my brain. The kids are in constant motion (Matilda)

and sucking their thumbs (Linnea)

and chatty, the both of them.

Look. I've got nothing to give. Linnea is nearly 6 months old. I'm sleeping more than I did with Matilda at this age but I'm still sort of burned out. Feel like I'm slipping into quicksand. Sick of typing with one hand. Can't seem to get on top of a reasonable weight-loss plan (the most insane idea, and the one that's actually working, is to drink olive oil). Still sucking wind with the running. Need a haircut. Just. Sort of. Meh about everything and also mildly paniced.

We went to Sweden a few weeks ago.

We go every year. Little did we know that the first year we took Matilda, when she was 5 months old, was going to be the easiest trip we'd ever take with kids. This year, with a two-year-old and a 5 month old, was the exact opposite of a good time. Door-to-door the trip is 15 hours. 6 hour time change and at least 4 extra hours of daylight a day. I'm not going to lie. It was not really. Um. Fun. Sure, Matilda got to swing in the best swing ever:

and Linnea got to eat her rivals:

but the trip as a whole sort of hurt my head and sent me into a tailspin of tired and drained for a week after.

So there was that. Now we're home and it's hot. Matilda starts repeating herself before she's even out of bed in the morning. She nurses her babies (asks if they're done or do they want the other side?), been making salads out of paper towels and eating the thai basil straight from the garden. She's been talking about potty training and wearing underpants but she won't use the potty. I'm trying to be patient but I'm really quite done changing diapers on two kids.

Linnea is well on her way to a balanced diet. She's had rice cereal and applesauce. Lemon sorbet and watermelon and sweet potatoes.

She talks all day and is *thisclose* to sitting unassisted.

These kids.