10 Weeks: Continued Growth, a Sad Anniversary, and a story about Whitesnake

I. Continued Growth

Our amazing boy continues to maintain his hold on the 95th percentile. 

I can probably stop obsessing about his nursing intake

Weighing in at 15 lbs 5 ozs, and 24 inches long, he is flourishing. 

He received a vaccination today, and once again was a champion.  Screamed once in protest, and then moved on. That's my boy. We are not needle-phobic in this family. 

Dr. H continues to be amazed by his strength.  Today he kept batting her arm out of the way when she was trying to look into his nose. 

In general he is amazingly tolerant of being picked at and groomed, which is a good thing, because his mother is something of a chimp- I am constantly picking at and grooming people. Nail clipping, ear cleaning, bathtime, getting dressed, diaper changes- no problem.  However, this is how he feels about having his nose messed with: 

Right after having his nose picked 

Recovered. Please leave my nose alone. Thanks.

His personality continues to emerge, and with every passing day he becomes more and more social and communicative.  He loves to be in the middle of the hubbub, and when he catches your eye he smiles and talks to you. It is almost too much to bear.  He is so stinking cute. 

Parental boasting and aggrandizement aside, I find his sociability even more remarkable, because in my work I spend a lot of time teaching my clients how to do the things that Bunting is already doing at 10 weeks old; eye contact, social referencing, tracking voices and faces. When he hears us laugh he cranes his neck towards the laughter.  Already he doesn't want to be left out. 

Handsome boy

Conversation with Gigi

The changing table remains one of his favorite places to hang out. 

Sunshine, colorful animals to look at and chat with, frequent bouts of semi-naked time. What's not to love? 

We introduced him to his crib, and he has begun napping there during the day.  To make sure he has positive associations with it, we also have some playtime there when he is alert and happy. 

Naptime Bunting Burrito

Play time with his mobile

Tummy time continues, which he finds alternately infuriating, delightful, and quite boring. 

Hmmm, I wonder how much longer they will leave me here. 

He is developing a fairly predictable sleeping schedule; he sleeps from 9:00pm-2:00am, then a quick feed, then back down until 6:30am-ish. When he fusses I pull him into bed with us (he begins the night in a co-sleeper attached to my side of the bed). In the morning he is very happy and alert, and he just stares at his Daddy until FRK wakes up and pays attention to him.  It is very sweet.    

This is way more sleep than I dared hope that we would all be getting at this point. Fingers crossed that it continues. 

I am aware that I have 5 versions of this same picture.  I can't help myself. He is so cute when he sleeps. 

II. A Sad Anniversary

Mama died a year ago on February 23.  We miss her terribly. She would have loved this baby so very much. 

The last few weeks have been very hard for us (FRK, myself, and Mepher).  I can't imagine what they would have been like if we didn't have Bunting to love and fill our days with joy. 

III. Whitesnake

But Mama was a person who did not dwell and live in sadness, so in her honor, here is a classic Mama Lucy story: 

In the 80's, Mama worked as a housekeeper at the Fairmont Hotel in San Jose.   She took her job VERY seriously, and was irrationally proud of being able to complete her quota of rooms every day (rarely did the housekeepers do so, but they were given a goal #). 

When our story occurs, Mama had risen in the ranks, such as they were, and was assigned to several suites. 

This was considered a cushy gig; the suites very often hosted VIPs who did not want their rooms disturbed, plus they were often much less work than the regular rooms. If you had a suite on your roster, it counted as two or three rooms, yet most of the suites took less time, since tidying the living room area usually took no time at all. 

Nothing aggravated Mama more than not being able to clean a room. 

She wanted to be able to check off that room, dammit. 

So....Whitesnake comes to town. Yes, THAT Whitesnake. Hair band, Tawny Kitaen, etcetera. They of course stay in a suite. One of Mama's suites. Their manager leaves word that they are not to be disturbed, any and all communication should come through him. 

For two days, no one sees hide nor hair of them. 

They can hear them, of course (heh-heh), and piles of dishes emerge periodically, but no housekeeping services. 

This drives Mama crazy. For two days now, she is unable to check that suite off her list. 

Their manager makes requests periodically, and the staff scrambles around to accommodate. 

Then on Day Three a room service guy is recruited to collect and remove a  giant pile of dirty towels and linens.

Mama finds this completely unacceptable. 

She decides to take matters into her own hands, despite her coworkers imploring her to PLEASE leave the rock stars alone! 

She marches up to the suite, coworkers in tow, and pounds on the door (Mama was a tiny woman- barely 5 feet, less than 90 lbs- but she was LOUD, in every way). 

There is rustling from within, but no one responds. 

She knocks again. 

Finally, David Coverdale opens the door, bleary eyed and stark naked. 

"I NEED TO CLEAN YOUR ROOM. YOU BEEN HERE TWO DAYS!"

He stares at her, and then attempts to demur. 

"YOU GO GET LUNCH! IT'S TIME TO GET UP, IT'S THE AFTERNOON! NO TIME TO SLEEP, TIME TO GET UP!!"

Mama's coworkers are beside themselves, sure that her illustrious career with the Fairmont organization is coming to a premature end. 

Suddenly, Mama realizes Coverdale is naked. 

"WHAT YOU DOING, OPEN THE DOOR NAKED!!!!!???? GET DRESSED! IT'S TIME TO CLEAN YOUR ROOM!"

Coverdale is strangely charmed by her abuse. 

They introduce themselves (she has never heard of Whitesnake), and she marches in. 

Men and women in various states of undress are scattered around the suite. 

Still naked, Coverdale tells them to get dressed, Lucy needs to clean their room. 

Meek as schoolchildren, they file out. 

Mama puts their room to rights. 

Subsequently, every time they come to San Jose, Coverdale specifically requests that Mama be his housekeeper.  

And we get lots of free Whitesnake merchandise. 

Sad

I am so sad sometimes.  I miss Mama so much I can't stand it. She drove me crazy when she was alive, yet the void that is left is huge.  She would love this baby so much.  So very much...words cannot even begin to express how much. 


It is juvenile and irrational, but I can't get over how unfair it is.  She had such a good heart. She was a kind person.  No matter how incredibly annoyed I was by her, I always, always knew that she was coming from a place of love, though the actual implementation of her good intentions often resulted in frustration on my part. The fact that she is dead, that BOTH my parents are dead, when so many shitty and cruel and evil people still walk this earth- these days I almost can't bear it, I want to scream and rage and break things. 


She was such a good mom to small kids.  Things got thornier once adolescence came knocking, but my childhood was wonderful.  I felt loved and safe. 


My father's crash was when I was 14.  Under the most optimal circumstances, 14 is a humdinger.  I look around at the 14 year olds I know- I think of them having their father taken from them, in a coma, in limbo.  Neither alive nor dead. 


I think of them being in charge. Paying the rent. Packing the lunches. Talking to the doctors. Asking all the questions.  And I shake my head- they are just babies!  You can't allow them to take on such weighty, adult responsibilities. 


But she did. 


Undone by the reality of life as she knew it crumbling just like that, my mother gave herself over to grief and let me take over.  There was a vacuum, and I filled it. There was no one else.  We were never able to unring that bell.  I became an adult far too early.  She remained a child far too long.  Our mixed up, upside down roles were a constant source of frustration for both of us.  I resented her dependency, yet any attempts on her part to be 'motherly' I greeted with contempt.  It's far too late for THAT, I would huff to myself. 


The baby would have been a clean slate.  New leading roles for both of us; mother and grandmother. A chance to relate to each other in a new way, untainted by the past. 


Mama died February 23rd, 2009.  Bunting was conceived in March.  I can't decide if the timing is the cruelest of jokes or the greatest of blessings. 

8 weeks old

Hmmm. It seems I skipped Week 7. Ah well. It was a fine week, let me assure you.


Onwards! 


Bunting Bean is 8 weeks old, oh my gosh!  Here is where I wallop you with cliches, so you've been warned. 

Where has the time gone?  Have I really been a mother for two months?  He is growing like a weed, changing day to day, and I am trying so hard to savor every sweet moment. It seems like just yesterday we were here:

Minutes old

And all of a sudden we are here:

Maxin' and relaxin' with his woodland friends.


Today was his 2 month check up: 

13 lbs, 5 ozs

24 inches long

40.5 cm head circumference 

90th percentile across the board. 

The doctor referred to him as "Hercules"; he is strong little bugger, developmentally on target and then some. He flirted like crazy with Dr. H, cooing and windmilling his arms and giving her big gummy smiles. He is a very social child already. 

He received his polio and DTP vaccinations this visit. Yes, we are vaccinating, but we are spreading them out, so that he never gets four or five at once. For the shots I held him to my chest, skin to skin, and he was a brave little toaster. Hollered once in surprise, and that was it. 

Life has become a bit less chaotic in the last few weeks, as he grows and becomes interested in his various toys, bouncers, and play mats.  Previously he had little interest in such things. He will now happily stare and chat at his little friends, light fixtures, the ceiling, for up to 20 minutes at a time, allowing us to perform various necessary tasks with two hands. It has stopped raining, so we have had lots of stroller time. 

Los Gatos Creek Trail

We have been working on napping in his co-sleeper; the first few days he would begin to fuss almost the instant he was put down, but we persevered, and by day three he was napping solo. Hooray! We nurse until drowsy, and then I put him down before he is sound asleep, so that he can get used to falling asleep, calm and secure.  It is very important to me that he know how to fall asleep, and have positive associations with sleep. My sister and I were both held, rocked, or patted to sleep long past toddlerhood, and as a result we both had a very hard time developing healthy sleep patterns later on. 

He tracks voices, turning his head toward the sound when he hears someone speak. He loves F's voice (it has such a lovely, deep timbre) and will follow it through the house. He can track objects side to side, but not up and down. If you say "hello" or "ohhhh" to him repeatedly he will imitate the cadence of the sound. 

We have begun the "Tummy Time" regime, necessary for modern day babies due to the fact that the SIDS prevention "Back to Sleep" campaign has been so successful.  Back when I began babysitting, we always put babies on their stomachs, so they wouldn't aspirate. Now that is a mega no-no.  It will be interesting to see what the party line will be in another 20 years. Anyway- he likes it. 

Despite his expression in the photo below, he loves the bath, and churns his arms and legs with great glee when he is in the water. 

Maximum cuteness begins at approx 1:40

Few things make him happier than 'no pants' time on the changing table. In this regard he definitely takes after his father (and most of the male population, probably).

Down with pants!

The other day Mamaji (F's mother Nan) came over to visit and hang out.  She was holding the baby, and every time she looked away from him to speak to Fritz, Bunting would just knock himself out to draw her attention back, smiling and cooing and just being as cute as humanly possible. And of course, it worked. 

Chatting with Mamaji

On Sunday Gigi took me out for lunch, and then to the opera. All told, I was away from Bunting for 7 hours, the longest stretch to date.  Our friend Jennifer came over to keep the boys company and provide backup for Fritz if necessary, and Amanda stopped by to say hello. They had a grand time at home, and Gigi and I had a grand time having lunch at Il Fornaio, and then attending "The Marriage of Figaro", performed by Opera San Jose. Right before the curtain rose I pumped* in the bathroom.  It was my first time pumping outside of the house, and I was a little anxious about it, but it went very smoothly. 

The home of Opera San Jose.  A refurbished movie theater from the '20s. Stunning. 

It was a lovely way to spend a Sunday, with one of my favorite people.  

*using a battery or electric powered pump to remove milk from the breasts. Yup. You read that right. If the breasts are not emptied every few hours, painful, not fun things occur.

(something new every day, right?)