The other night while I was bathing Haddie, I called out to Hunky Hubby to strip Bode down for his bath. A couple of minutes later, I heard a resounding “Uhhhh ohhhhh” from the bedroom. He casually called out to me:

“Hey Amber, I have some good news and some bad news.”
“What’s the good news?”
“Well, he didn’t do it on my side of the bed….”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

A few random, disconnected updates today.

1) Bode’s two-week appointment was yesterday and he checked out maaaavelously. Not only has he regained what he lost in the hospital, but The Slug (as he became known) has already gained half an ounce. Good to know these explosive mammaries are good for something. He also showed early signs of genius when he spoke his first three words. Vehemently. His profundities occurred when they stuck a needle in his foot and he screeched “WORST! PAIN! EVER!” Poor kid. He even included the exclamation marks in his statement.

2) I am enjoying having a boy more than I ever imagined. Admittedly, I had an aversion to getting peed on and boys, as you know, aim and fire. But I am indulging his feminine side in a way that would make Hunky Hubby cringe: by putting Vaseline on his little lips and lotion on his legs. And there isn’t any kicking and screaming. In fact, I think he kind of likes it and assures me it is absolutely no threat to his manhood. Unlike other men I know.

3) A parent is proud of their child under different circumstances during their lives: their first day of kindergarten, their first ‘A’ in school, their first goal in soccer. I reached one of these milestones with Hadley the other day when Jamie was coughing away, coughing without covering his mouth.

The Hurricane walked up to him, put her arm up to her mouth and did a fake cough to demonstrate how to politely do it. She then attempted to cover Jamie’s mouth with his arm. When he stubbornly refused, she grabbed every single one of her stuffed animals and showed Daddy how they do it. FYI, Big Bird was the only one whose arm/wing was not long enough to cover his mouth. Just in case you were wondering. I always suspected he was lacking in social graces.

4) Thanks for all the advice on the explosive mammaries. I went the cabbage leaves route and they have worked wonders. The only drawback is that after a few hours when they’ve appropriately molded to said mammaries, they start to, well, mold. I’m trying to get beyond the stench and have to put a pillow on my chest whilst sleeping. Because I just wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have any sleep issues.

Also, I’m not sure what’s more offensive. When I first put them on and Hunky Hubby told me he suddenly had a craving for coleslaw or the fact that he now calls me his little sauerkraut.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I have always believed in the power of prayer but this testimony has been reconfirmed the past couple of days.

Case study #1: The other night after feeding Bode at 3:30 a.m., he started fussing when I went back to bed. I said a quick prayer: “Dear Lord, if you don’t want me to be a crazed lunatic who cries because the laundry hasn’t been put away for two days, please let this kid sleep.” And do you know what? He stopped immediately. I guess that means I have to put away the laundry now….

Case study #2: I’m a bit ashamed about this one. Y’see, yesterday was supposed to be my first day alone with the kids but it didn’t happen. Why? Because I prayed my husband home. Yep, the night before I prayed I’d get some help and lo-and-behold, Jamie woke up sick for his first day back on the job. Of course, I would never pray ma honey sick. Unless I knew he’d be exceedingly helpful, of course.

Case study #3: This is the one where I learned that I control even the elements through my great faith. Several years ago when I worked as a publicist in the ski industry, I had the opportunity to participate in SkiUtah’s infamous Interconnect Adventure Tour. This tour offers the advanced skier the chance to ski often treacherous backcountry routes through five resorts in a single day for $150. Why would I submit myself to such a crazy thing? Simple: I had the opportunity to do it for free.

Photo: skiing Tahoe in non-powder conditions
I have been skiing since I was 5 years old but to put it mildly, backcountry powder skiing just ain’t my forte so I rented some “revolutionary” backcountry skis to help. In the beginning, I had some minor difficulties balancing my weight on my new skis. I fell quite a few times but overall I was doing pretty well. Doing well, that is, until I actually had to leave the summit. Though not pretty, I did manage to make it down the test run, after which time the instructors separated the wheat from the tares (meaning those of us who sucked and those who didn’t.)

I was labeled a borderline tare: one who was a strong enough skier to complete the tour but who would probably be miserable because of the harsh backcountry conditions that day. I opted to stay onboard, primarily because there were some weaker than I but mostly because I was the only female left.

As we boarded the van, I noticed all of my fellow borderline tares were gone. And suddenly, so was my comfort zone. I subsequently did what I do best in such situations: I panicked. After a few minutes, I resolved I was accomplishing nothing by stressing out so I prayed for the biggest blizzard Mother Nature could muster up.

Sound a bit crazy? I am not one of little faith when my butt is on the line. As we rounded the bend, a freak snowstorm miraculously blew threw. A few minutes later, the guides canceled the trip for fear of avalanche danger in the backcountry.

The moral of these stories?

Never underestimate the “powder” of prayer….

AMEN.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I am dreading tomorrow. Jamie goes back to work and I will be left alone with The Children. Two of them. It doesn’t sound like a lot until you have one screaming to be fed and another dialing Child Services and reporting she has been neglected. For two whole minutes. A fate no kid should have to suffer.

It doesn’t help that Bode finally woke up from his sluggish state. He thankfully still sleeps a good block of the night but during the day, he likes to cry. A lot. Rumor has it this is what babies do. However, he still does not even come close to The Hurricane’s 4-hour-long tantrums so I’m trying to keep things in perspective. But hormones + a toddler + a newborn + 100-degree temps= an extreme lack thereof.

Hunky Hubby addressed what the real issue is in his latest blog entry: I am a crappy sleeper. I have been since I graduated from college. It was my first job as The Craaaaazy Canuck snow reporter that ruined me forever. Y’see, I had to get up at 3:30 a.m. to compile all the snow conditions and was on-air by 5:30 a.m. I was so paranoid I would sleep in that I barely slept a wink. Because the world would undoubtedly come to an end if it didn’t know that Park City had a 120-inch base. To overcome my paranoia, I finally had to start sleeping with two alarm clocks, a habit I couldn’t break for years.

Having a baby when you have sleep issues is a large issue in itself. In the event that I, by some miracle, actually fall asleep in a timely manner, I am unable to fall back asleep when awoken by aforementioned baby.

My first night in the hospital after I had Bode was the worst. Not because of him (he slept most of the time) but because of my neurosis. Y’see, there was a clock on the wall. And it ticked. All night long. I think I finally smashed it around midnight but that didn’t solve my next obstacle: my vibrating bed. Every time I’d start to nod off, I’d be awoken by that stupid bed, which pulsated every couple of minutes. In my post-labor/delusional state, I’d initially envision I was at some kinky sex motel. But then I’d remember it was sex that got me in this condition in the first place and the novelty would wear off. I finally pulled the plug at 3 a.m. Of the bed. I got in trouble the next day from the nasty nurses but I didn’t care, rebel that I am.

Jamie and I decided that I would sleep in Bode’s room those first weeks. We made the mistake of bringing Haddie into our bedroom and neither of us ever slept so it only made sense that the person who doesn’t sleep anyway should do the night shift.

However, Jamie had a change of heart the other day and told me I should just sleep in our bedroom and turn the baby monitor on. I was touched by his sensitivity, with his intuitiveness about how exhausted I was sleeping in that uncomfortable bed. Until he gave his reasoning:

“After all, how are we ever going to start on baby #3?”

Suddenly, Bode’s room never looked so good.

🙂

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Let me get something straight: I am madly in love with my husband. He is thoughtful, caring, spiritual, successful, intelligent and hard working. I would never use my blog as a venting outlet against him. I don’t have to; I am rarely angry or even frustrated with him. Yep, he is just that nice and easy going.

However, he is also The King of One-Liners. You wouldn’t suspect such a killer sense of humor upon meeting him. But in time, hilarity and sarcasm seep out. Hilarity that keeps me laughing every day. Those one-liners have been a major source of my blogging content. Truthful content. With no intent to harm or slander.

That said, I am incredulous that yesterday’s post about milking m@mmaries inspired him to start his own blog. A blog in defence of husbands everywhere. A blog that “Exposes the Truth Behind the Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck.” http://crazycanucktruth.blogspot.com/

And so all I can say is this: proceed with caution. And to my beloved Hunky Hubby, I say this:

When I ask you to load the clothes in the dryer, I also assume you will know that includes actually turning the dryer on as well.

Let the games begin,
XOXO
Amber

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

To any men out there who may be reading this post:

Read at your own risk because I am dealing with uncomfortable, womanly issues. I’m talking m@mmaries, an issue you generally enjoy discussing and viewing. Until Junior comes on the scene. Suddenly that which was desirable turns rather uncomfortable as you struggle with whether to be turned on or off each time you are flashed during feeding sessions.

So, I am kinda tired these days due to my explosive mammmmaries. For whatever reason, their quality isn’t good and my kids never latch on without a shield, thereby making me a failure in the m@ma mi*lking department. However on quantity? I am a m@ma mil*king machine and could feed a small Ethiopian village.

This does not pose too much of a problem during the day because Bode eats frequently. But by having a kid who’s a great nighttime sleeper, I’m faced with a new issue: painful engorgement that is keeping me up all frickin’ night. While he sleeps.

I have been on a pumping strike, primarily because pumping made me overproduce so much with Hadley that I was worse than our sprinkler drip system. And so I am looking for any suggestions/tips/experiences on this matter that do not involve hooking myself up to The Mi*lkers.

WAIT, a retraction: I just informed Jamie about my subject du jour on this blog. And his exceedingly male response:

“Should we put some pictures? People like visuals.”

Once a man, always a man I guess.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Now, let me get something straight: I am not one of those annoying people who is going to record every single milestone in my kid’s life. At least not publicly. I learned that when Jamie and I celebrated every weekly, monthly, [hourly, minutely] anniversary our first year of marriage. I can now see why folks thought we were just a wee bit irritating. Now, we only show affection in private, and just to gross out our children (though I had second thoughts about even this when Haddie went beyond “kisses” and tried to make out with me in church a few weeks ago.)

But as for our burgeoning Baby Bode, I would be remiss if I didn’t give at least some updates on the little guy. It’s too tough to tell at this point what his true personality is going to be but thus far, he’s exceedingly easy-going like his father. And likes to sleep. A lot.

At this stage in the game, we already knew that Haddie was not. Easy-going, that is. Our first sign was when she cried all night long the first night we brought her home from the hospital. This is not an exaggeration. She cried so much she LOST HER VOICE. Haggard and exhausted, we showed up for our scheduled doctor’s appointment the next morning. “What’s wrong with her?” we wailed. The doc listened closely to our story and then gave the diagnosis: “Hmmm, sounds like you have a baby.” That was the beginning of the end.

Bode, on the other hand, sleeps for about a five-hour chunk at night before I wake him up to feed. Yes, I have to wake him up. This is a new concept to me. Yesterday when we gave him a sponge bath, he didn’t wake up until the very end. And I think that was only to crap all over the towel and pee on the mirror. I think I liked it better when he slept.

Jamie and I, on the other hand, have been the insomniacs in the family. My recovery has been rather painful and he, of course, has been sick. And so like strangers in the night, we have been miserably passing each other and commenting, “Don’t you think it’s ironic that our children are sleeping and we’re watching infomercials on Cortislim?”

We don’t know if Bode will continue to be a good sleeper after he kicks this newborn stage. But after two sleep-deprived years with The Hurricane, Jamie has a strategy. When still at the hospital, the nurse commented on Bode’s sleep habits:

“You need to be careful that he maintains a good blood-sugar level.”
“What is the significance of that?”
“Well, if you don’t, he will be lethargic and will sleep a lot.”
“Oh, OK!”

The moment Nurse Betty left the room, Jamie turned to me, with a glimmer in his eyes:

“So you’re telling me all we have to do to get this kid to sleep through the night is to keep his blood-sugar low?”

Finally, a plan. 🙂

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Hey All,

As many of you know, I’m a contributor to the popular mom’s site, DotMoms. They finally posted last month’s submission today so check it out!

Signed,
She-who-feels-like-her-mammaries-are-going-to-explode

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

A special thanks to all the sweet congratulatory notes I’ve received about Bode’s arrival! I’ve had several inquiries re: the pronunciation (“Bow-dee”) and inspiration for his name. Back in February when we were watching the Olympics whilst holed up in a gorgeous condo in the mountains, the U.S.’s top alpine skier, Bode Miller, flashed across the screen. It was Jamie who suggested the name and it immediately clicked for both of us. Never mind that the guy ended up bombing all his races; here’s to hoping it’s not all downhill for us as well. OK, that was bad. Sleep deprivation, y’know.

I’m actually feeling pretty well, post-labor pains, exhaustion and pathetic pun attempts notwithstanding. It’s Jamie who’s in rough shape. Unbelievably sick. You know: the I can’t-get-out-of bed kind of sick. In addition to all the joys of bronchitis, he has a killer ear infection that is causing nausea, vertigo and migraines. His mom just ran him to the doc for the second time in two days. He didn’t even laugh when I mocked him about going to the doctor with his “mommy;” his misery takes the fun right out of it.

As you know, we went in bright and early on Tuesday to be induced. Amazingly enough, Bode finally got his act together and I actually went into labor at the hospital. Nice. Couldn’t he have done that, say, two frickin’ weeks ago?

To speed things up, they still hooked me up to Pitocin. Just as the contractions were getting rough, I asked for an epidural and had a flashback to Haddie’s birth. Y’see with Haddie, the nurse left…and didn’t come back. For a very long time. For an excruciating amount of time. She claimed she got pulled into an “emergency situation.” Whatever. What could be more urgent than doping me up?

So this time when the nurse said they were going to do another epidural before mine, welp, it wasn’t pretty. Admittedly, there were threats: “Now listen Mrs. Nice Nurse Lady. You go over and tell that other birthin’ mama to just tough it out and stop being a wimp.” Obviously, I have no problems with harboring such a label.

Undaunted, she came to my rescue: “Sorry, I can’t do it but do you want something now to tide you over?” Are you kidding me? Within minutes, they’d doped me up. I don’t know what the wonder drug was but it took effect. Immediately. And thems were goooooooood drugs. I didn’t have a care in the world by the time the anesthesiologist finally came in. I think I even made out with him. It was the least I could do.

The rest of my labor went quickly and I delivered within a couple of hours. I dilated from a 6 to a 10 in a 15-minute period. For the grand finale, I only pushed a few times and he was out. Beautiful, crying and a bit purple from his last-ditch effort to stay inside my womb forever by wrapping himself up in my umbilical cord. But he turned out to be just perfect. And once again, I pondered WHY THE CRAP women choose to submit themselves to suffering in labor. To each their own, I guess.

And he’s the prettiest little old man baby ever. So far, he’s also a stellar sleeper and eater, the complete opposite of his sister (more on that later). His funniest feature is his chin. Initial impressions were that it was rather recessed. But after further inspection, I am more prone to believe this is an illusion due to more than mere chubby cheeks but actual jowls that protrude from his face. I could be wrong, though.

And if the poor kid does end up with a recessive chin? He can always grow a goatee to hide it. It may not be much of a hit in first grade but someday it’ll drive the women wild….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog