the marvelous adventures of jules & john

This weekend as I sat in church, I noticed a weird scent in the air. I tried to discretely see if it was me, but concluded that it was probably the family behind us. However, the smell seemed to follow me around, and finally I discovered the culprit – Beatrice’s NECK ROLLS. Yep, my dainty, clean little girl had become the smelly kid.

Her rolls weren’t just smelly – they were chapped and oozy and shockingly red. Bad mom alert? I think yes.

So I consulted three trusted sources:

• My mom who raised 4 kids who weren’t too smelly (I hope)
• Leah, who’s son is 10 days younger than B and SHOULD be the smelly kid considering how much he spits up and how many rolls he has, but somehow isn’t (she blogs at LeahAndSteven.com by the way)
• And the internets, of course

My mom said to powder it. Leah said to apply diaper rash cream. The internet swore by Aquaphor.

So here’s what I did: I gave her a bath and then consulted my box of one-million baby product samples that I collected over the last year. And guess what was in there – AQUAPHOR. The internet wins.

I dried her little rolls and applied the Aquaphor, then made sure to keep her chin free of bubbles and milk for the rest of the day (a bigger feat than you would think). Guess how long it took to clear up? ONE DAY. Not even a full 24 hours! Amazing!

So if you are about to have a child, I highly suggest investing in some Aquaphor… and keeping your kid’s neck clean so you don’t become the bad mom with the smelly kid.

Side Note: kids don’t just offer up their necks for cleaning and Aquaphor-applying. We conquered this little problem by laying her on her changing table while John stood behind her head so that she had to tip her head way back to look at him. He made a racket and pulled out some sweet dance moves, and she was so captivated that she didn’t even flinch as I dug into those endless rolls in her neck. 

This morning at church, did little Beatrice let out the biggest, loudest, manliest burp of her life during a moment of silence and reflection? Yep. Poop on her clothes? Of course. What about scream during the ordination of the new pastor? You betcha she did. 

I recently had a friend ask me about what I packed in my hospital bag, and if there was anything I wish I would’ve included. Overall, I think I did a pretty good job of packing, but there are some changes I’ll make next time.

The list of what my bag contained is here. 

And my thoughts…:

• I packed all sorts of entertainment like books, magazines, and games and didn’t use any of them. We had lots of visitors and when we were alone we were either sleeping or staring at Beatrice. 
• Everyone told me to bring the Boppy, but guess what - nursing with the Boppy is totally awkward for me. I don’t understand how to place it. I feel like it makes Bebe too high, it’s bulky… I prefer laying her in my lap and propping my arm up with a pillow. That said, I DO use the Boppy to try to teach Beatrice how to sit, so it’s not totally a bust.
• I packed 4 outfits for Beatrice to wear home because I didn’t know what size she’d be. That was definitely a good plan because at 6 pounds, 11 ounces, she was munchkin sized and didn’t even fit into the newborn clothes I brought. What a little runt. 
• I gave birth in a hospital gown but changed into my own clothes shortly after. This was the best idea ever. I felt like a real person and didn’t have to sport the terrible pink flowered robe/gown thing they provided for me. I heard that I should wear a dress-type nightgown because people would be checking me, but I wore pants and it was no big deal. Next time though, instead of baggy pants, I’ll bring leggings to help hold up the massive mesh undies and towel-sized pads. 
• While we’re on the subject of towel-sized pads, bring some not-so-obnoxious ones with you. I wore the ones the hospital provided me for the first two days, but then switched to Always Overnights -wayyyy thinner and more comfortable. 
• I didn’t need to bring pillows from home because I don’t care about using pillows that aren’t mine, but John thought the hospital pillows were bad and was glad he had his own. 
• Snacks! I could get room service whenever I wanted, but sometimes it took FOREVER. 

For Birthing:

• Wear the gown they give you unless you want to throw your clothes away. It’s messy.
• My wooden massager was the best ever
• I brought my birthing ball but left it in the car because they provided one to me. Birthing ball = awesome.
• They wouldn’t let me use a birthing tub because my water broke, but next time I’ll pack my swimsuit again, just in case. 
• Ask them for hot packs. 
• AND - this is stupid - I wore a sports bra under my gown when I gave birth, but then I couldn’t take it off because of the one million tubes coming out of me (IV, epidural). This was pretty awkward to maneuver when I was trying to nurse Beatrice. So either take your bra off before you get your IV, or put on a nursing bra.

Your nipples hopefully won’t fall off until after you go home from the hospital so you might not necessarily need to bring Lanolin. Your milk probably won’t come in until you leave, so breast pads aren’t vital to pack in your bag (but make sure you have some on hand when you do go home because whoa, when it comes, it really comes.). 

When you’re in the hospital and the nurses offer to take your baby to the nursery for the night, do it. You’re going to be waking up with them over and over again when you get home and you just GAVE BIRTH, so rest up. You’re going to need all of the energy you can get!

Beatrice eats approximately 95% breast milk and 5% formula. She gets formula if 1) all of the breast milk is frozen or 2) if we’re out and about and have one of the single serving bottles of formula handy. Those single servings rock my world - no cooling, heating, or clean-up necessary. Giving her formula has taken pressure off of me to make sure that I’m either by her side or have plenty of bottles ready, and formula is so much easier to handle when you’re on the go. I’m all for breastfeeding but a bottle of formula here and there isn’t going to do her any harm and does wonders for my sanity.

But suddenly B has decided that formula is SO last week. She either refuses it or FAKE eats it, pushing it back out of her mouth and leaving me in a pool of formula. I don’t get it. She will still take a bottle if it contains breast milk, so it must be the taste that she doesn’t like, but what’s with the sudden change? She used to like it! 

The only thing I can think of is that we were using Similac religiously and then switched it up and gave her Enfamil (Why? I had coupons of course!). But since then I’ve tried to give her the Similac back and she’ll have none of it. 

Side Note: My mom thinks she won’t take it any more because she’s smarter than all of the other babies and can tell the difference. haha.

It’s not that big of deal that she won’t take it any more, but it sure messes with our easy breezy outings. Has anyone else had this problem? Is she going to get over it or are we done with formula for good?

Last night my sister asked if she could babysit for B, so John and I took her up on the offer and went on a little date. We had dinner at John’s favorite place (Max & Erma’s of course), and then went to the movies… which cost EIGHTEEN DOLLARS… but that’s beside the point.

We saw I Don’t Know How She Does It which is about a woman trying to juggle her career and family. Totally appropriate eh? I MAY have lost a tear or two when the mom comes home from work to find that the nanny had taken the son to get a haircut… his FIRST haircut. Oye. Ouch. 

When we picked up our little Beatrice, Kara informed us that B rolled over when she put her on her stomach. WHAT!?!?!?!?!!! At B’s one-month doctor’s appointment she rolled over. Since then? Nothing. Granted, she rolls onto her side if I’m laying beside her, but that’s just because she’s trying to get at my boob. If we put her on her stomach she just barrels her head into the ground while she screams and produces a pond of spit and tears. 

I swear, she just rolled over to punish us for leaving her side. 

Dear Beatrice,

When I was pregnant I said I wouldn’t do certain things as a parent… like baby talk. Certainly I could talk like an adult to my child. Then I had you and was suddenly spewing words in a voice that wasn’t mine at the witttle bitty punkin. I can’t help it - something about your cuteness makes me have to wiggle my head around and cut my words in half, and when you laugh it just encourages me. I read somewhere that babies like high pitch voices and I use that idea to justify my ridiculousness. 

I also said that you didn’t need giant toy monstrosities because you can play outside. While we DO go outside every day, I’ve also paid an arm and a leg to have this take over our living room:

Why these things cost so much, I will never know. But since you love it, you shall have it. And when you want me to sell my kidney for a prom dress, I’ll probably do it because I’m apparently soft like that. You know what else I want to get you? Baby Einstein. Yes, I want to sit you in front of the tv for hours so that you can learn to read at age 3. What have I become?

I swore I wouldn’t sleep with you in our bed (the horror) but I love having you beside me and have turned it into a bit of a habit. Your pa says no more though, so I guess it’s back to the cradle for you. *sigh* I reckon we can still NAP together right? 

And then there’s that dang pacifier. “Why do babies need pacifiers and thumbs?”, I said. I’ll just have to wean her from it, so there’s no reason to even start it if I’m just going to take it away. Besides, isn’t a pacifier for bad parents that don’t know how to quiet their children? Now we are those parents and have that orange pacifier within arms reach at all times. You love it and it is a miracle worker. 

These days I find myself eating my words over and over again. Before you were born John and I were not aware that I had a sensitive or motherly streak in me, and I think we were both a bit worried about this. Yet here I am, doing everything in my power to make you smile and 100% wrapped around your finger. 

Love you always,

Your Ma

Today I got home from work and as soon as Beatrice saw me, her face lit up in recognition and she laughed. Then she chattered to me, smiling and laughing the whole time.

I love her.

Infantino Flip Carrier: We picked this up at Target because John wasn’t into the Moby like I was, and needed a manlier way to carry Beatrice. Since then, I think he’s used it once, and I’ve stuck her in it daily. I love it because:

• it’s faster and easier to put on than the Moby. If I’m running into a store, I don’t want to stand outside of my car wrapping a long piece of fabric around me while trying to make sure that it doesn’t touch the ground. 
• I don’t have to support B’s head when I wear it. She likes to look UP, and the Moby makes me feel like I have to have my hand behind her head to avoid her cracking her little neck. 
• It’s not a tedious task to put her in a different position - I can flip her forward or backward or put her on my back without having to visit the Moby website to try and figure out how to wrap her. 
• It’s mesh so I don’t feel like I’m baking B when I carry her outside in the heat.

I still love my Moby - it’s comfortable and warm, and was perfect when my little nugget just wanted to curl up in a ball on my chest. It’s easy to clean and I like the huge variety of different ways you can carry your baby. 

OxiClean: I bought a jumbo box of this stuff for when we start cloth diapering. I hadn’t used it, but then B had diaper explosions on two white onesies. I washed them and the stains were still there. So then I soaked them in a bucket of water and a smidgen of OxiClean overnight and THE STAINS WERE GONE - BEFORE I even put them through another laundry cycle! No rubbing necessary! The best part - they became beautifully white, not dingy like before. Now I’ve gone through B’s clothes and am soaking all of her not-so-white whites to brighten them up. I’m sold.

This week Beatrice loves the Carter’s Swaddle Blankets. They are soft and light and thin like a t-shirt which means she can easily grip them - her new big thing. I’m talking HOURS of entertainment here. I made the poor kid spend five hours at garage sales yesterday and she didn’t make a peep - just moved that blanket up and down and looked around. I tried to get her to grab onto a teething ring or a rattle, but she’s not interested. Blankets all the way. 

Apparently you haven’t noticed the closet full of little summer dresses in Beatrice’s closet that she hasn’t been able to fit into until now. This weather is putting a real damper on her wardrobe and I’d appreciate it if you would warm up for another month or so, just to make sure I didn’t buy all of these things for nothing. I’d say 80 degrees would suffice.

Thanks so much,

Julia

Yesterday Beatrice had her 2-month doctor’s appointment. At the last minute, I decided that I couldn’t possibly sit in class while my girl was getting two shots, so I skipped school and went along. Priorities people, priorities. 

My peanut weighed in at 9 pounds 14 ounces at 10 weeks! Amazing! I really thought she might still be in the high 8 or low 9 pound range, considering she’s still wearing newborn clothes. She’s 21 3/4 inches long which puts her in the 25% percentile for her height and the 30% for her weight. Good job B. She did some major growing since last month.

Then came the vaccinations. The oral one she sucked down like a champ. The first shot she cried a little bit, but it wasn’t terribly dramatic and she got over it quickly. The second shot, whoa, no sound (or breath) came out of her as she did one of those terrible I’m-crying-so-hard-I-can’t-cry cries. It was pretty tough, but I stayed strong and kept my tears at bay unlike last time. We got her calmed down a lot faster this round as well - I think we’re getting pretty good at this parenting thing.

These days I feel like I’m doing everything halfway - I’m a meh wife and employee, an ok mom, and a terrible student. I wake up every day feeling either a) obsessively in the zone, b) depressed, or c) in the midst of a panic. Then I run around like my head’s cut off trying to manage my world and being too hard on myself about the mistakes I’m making and the things I’m not getting to. When I do something fun, afterward I feel terribly guilty about not doing something productive. And then I take a quiz and get a crap grade on it, and then receive an email about what I did wrong at work, followed by a text from John declaring that B just found her feet while I was gone, and discover that he ate nothing for lunch because there is no food… all which just reiterate the fact that I’m NOT DOING GOOD ENOUGH.

It’s. Making. Me. Crazy. (and John too…).

When John tries to counsel the insanity out of me (which makes me even more crazy - having a, level-headed, sensible, counselor husband can be quite irritating), I decide that I have to quit my job, forego my masters degree, hire a painter, move, get fat, etc, etc. Then I declare that I’ve never quit anything in my life so I can’t start now. I’m also determined that if other people can do this, than I can too. 

You know what the worst part is? I’m not even working full time yet and I’m only taking ONE class. This is a disaster. 

That is my rant. Now I feel guilty about blogging instead of playing with Bebe, doing homework, and cleaning the kitchen. And it’s 8:48 pm and Beatrice hasn’t had a bath in 3 days and now she’s asleep. Why didn’t I bathe her when she was awake an hour ago??? Oh right, because I was doing homework… BAHHH!