Around the EdelSpot

Because I rarely have more than 15 minutes to myself before the kids are asleep, and because after they finally DO go down I have about 15 minutes to eat dinner or get a shower before I pass out from sheer exhaustion, I am EXTREMELY behind in posting. Which may lead some of you to think that nothing is happening over here at the Edelspot, but HOLY LIFE CHANGING BATMAN, that couldn't be further from the truth.

1. Little man is five months old, and not to get all gooey, but such a joy. I look at him while I'm rocking him each night and think, HOLY COW I forgot how great it is to love a little person who doesn't talk back, throw tantrums or ROLL HER EYES AT YOU (oh, yes, she did). He is just so smiley. So happy. So deliciously ROUND and sweet and pinchable. On January 9, after a day where my sweet adorable baby was a full-on fuss-face, I let him suck on my finger and discovered he had hidden a prison shank in there. Which is code for baby tooth, but I do know that if anyone I know ever gets sent to the pokey, instead of razor blades, I'm smuggling them a few baby teeth for protection. As for nursing... this may be the beginning of the end unless B can mind his manners. ARE YOU HEARING THIS BUDDY!?! He also has had his first few tentative meals of solid food (i.e. rice cereal) although he doesn't seem enamored with the stuff. Which I personally find shocking (SHOCKING) because I can't keep anything out of his mouth, except apparently bland, cold, milky cereal. GO FIGURE (insert sarcasm here).
2. In other news, my daughter is amazeballs. Seriously. She has the power to make me simultaneously pull my hair in frustration and laugh until I cry. Her personality is... big. HUGE. There is no other way to put it. Her first dance recital was in December and she was such a ham she had the entire audience rolling. Our neighbors even had business colleagues who REMEMBERED HER DAYS LATER. She sees kids at our neighborhood playground and runs directly for them, yelling at me over her shoulder that her BEST FRIENDS(!!!!) are here -- despite the fact we've never met them. She is always listening and absorbing SO MUCH. When I talked to her about how some of her toys weren't safe for Beckett to play with, she just seemed to shrug off what I was telling her. But a few days later she named one of her My Little Ponies "Choking Hazard," and flew it around the room for a half hour yelling, "Choking Hazard to the rescue!!" She also has recently told me to... wait for it... SHUT UP. Which I know I've never said to her, so it has to have come from a movie or a conversation between grown-ups when we just forget that LITTLE EARS HEAR EVERYTHING. At least she hasn't picked up some of the other, ahem, even LESS attractive words that come out of my mouth on occasion. I'm frankly just waiting from the note that will come home from school one day saying, "Today your daughter cursed like a dirty sailor" but until then... *shrug* I mean, I'm trying here people. In other news, she rode her tricycle, I mean REALLY rode it, for the first time this week. And each day, with each eye roll, huff, hug, joke and snuggle I see my daughter becoming more and more her own sweet, funny, hilarious and just plain AWESOME person. 
3. Last, but certainly not least, we found, bought and moved into a new house in the 'burbs. As in the SUBURBS. As in, I saw a freaking PACK OF COYOTES running across the street three days ago, a hawk the size of a model airplane keeps circling out house looking for small children to abduct, and if you go out at night you can... wait for it... ACTUALLY SEE STARS. If you know us at all, you will know this isn't our scene so its been extremely life changing to say good-bye to the city. But we figured that since our new house is BEYOND fabulous, Ben's commute has been cut anywhere from 30-45 minutes, the public schools are pretty great AND since we haven't gone out, like, GONE OUT in about a year and a half, being 30 minutes from the city wasn't all that big of a deal. I'm adjusting. And shopping for the house. A lot. WEEEEEEE!

Twelve weeks of wonderful

Its been nearly twelve weeks since Beckett made his debut into the Edelbrock household, and there are no words. NO. WORDS. Simply no words to describe how amazing, stupendous, wonderful, neat and just plain satisfying having him in our lives has been (okay, there are a few words).

I know, I know, who IS this woman who can hardly stop herself from spewing rainbows and sunshine and baby happiness all over you? I hardly sound like my typical, overwhelmed and neurotic self. But let me assure you it hasn't been all puppies and hugs over here. It has also been exhausting, mortifying and sometimes slightly horrifying.

The good news is that with each and every moment of total bewilderment, I seem to be learning at least a little something. Sort of.

For example, I have learned that the "quiet" is a relative term. My definition of quiet is vastly different than Kate's. Additionally, my definition of "play by yourself" is, once again, worlds apart from Kate's understanding. So when I ask Kate to "Please play quietly in your room while I put Beckett down for a nap," she understands that I am asking her to lay in the hall in front of the closed nursery door and sing/talk to herself loudly and kick at the floor until I either get Beckett to sleep or scream at her to STOP TALKING FOR THE LOVE OF GOD (Settle down, I don't REALLY yell that at her. Not out loud anyways).

I've also learned that it is more expensive to have a newborn in the winter versus the summer. When Kate was little and she would do that adorable little thing where a baby empties their stomach all over you (in polite circles its called "spitting up." I call it "icky vomit from hell") I would just peel off the ruined t-shirt and burn it in a trash can in my back yard. Or wash it, whatever. But when Beckett tosses his unholy milk all over me, it is typically on some kind of dry-clean only sweater. Which sucks, because burning (or dry-cleaning) all my sweaters at a rate of 2-3 per day is going to get expensive.

And speaking of unholiness, my son craps like a 300 pound trucker.

What? There isn't more to that lesson to summarize, I seriously just learned that my son craps like a trucker. Today he pooped through a diaper, a onesie, three layers of a swaddling blanket and my jeans. Soooo, yeah. Score.

Finally, I have learned that there is very little that can compare to hearing your daughter tell her brother she loves him. It just melts your heart.

Even when you are wearing trucker poop.

Learning the wet way

Some of the best advice we have gotten about Beckett was from our pediatrician. Not one to waste time repeating things we already know, she skipped the first timers pointers except one: When diapering a boy, make sure you point his penis down.

In fact, she didn't just TELL us to do this, but gave us the general reasons... if a boy pees up, instead of hitting the absorbent part of the diaper, it goes up, out and around. This ends up soaking the kiddo, his back, and whatever (or whomever) is unlucky enough to be under him.

Now, this was unsolicited advice so I decided to take note. Because if the ONE thing your kid's doctor spends time telling you isn't about keeping them alive, but rather is meant solely to keep you from being covered in urine, I assume its fairly pertinent information.

Diaper penis down. Check.

So imagine my annoyance when late one night after Ben changes Beckett I find myself covered in some sort of liquid. Upon closer inspection... um, yep, that is pee. And NOT my own. I walk into the office where Ben is and told him that SHOCKER, our pediatrician wasn't lying about diapering your son. He looks up from his laptop and kind of squints at me and my wet pants. 

"Huh, she was serious about that?"

(Banging head against wall) THIS is what I'm working with people.

But at least he DOES diapers. And toilets. (He is reminding me of all this as he reads over my shoulder and threatens to quit, crowd source an "I hate Liz" campaign or worst of all, diaper up ALL THE TIME, resulting in lots more wet laps for me. Touché Ben, Touché).

I'd rather be sleeping

I'm trying very hard not to disappear from the blogosphere now that Beckett is here, but I have to admit, posting regularly is slightly difficult right now. This is mainly because it is very rare that BOTH my children are sleeping at the same time, and if by some off chance they are, then I'm rushing around the house, trying to be productive -- washing dishes, doing laundry, mopping and waxing the floor, planning a strategy for the implementation of world peace... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Yeah... I'm totally lying. If my kids are snoozing at the same time, you better believe I'm curled up in the fetal position right there next to them, trying to soak up some of the silence and stock piling a few hours of shut eye to prepare for the "dark time" (aka night, aka the time when I want to cry for several hours in a row b/c my son will not sleep, aka HOLY GOD WILL THIS INFANT EVER GET DAY AND NIGHT FIGURED THE FUCK OUT?!)

Ahem. Sorry. 

Anyways, with all that said, stories and information and general randomness keeps piling up over here, so I'm doing a quick round-up post to update everyone on life around the EdelSpot. It goes a little something like this:

1. Showering has become something akin to a religious experience for me. Seriously. My house is never, and I mean NEVER quiet any more. There is a baby crying, a toddler melting down, a dog barking or the television/radio blaring nearly every single moment of the day, and half the night. So when I shut my bathroom door, and turn on the blessed white noise of the shower, I very nearly weep with joy. I love opening the shower door and getting hit with the puff of steam I've let build up, I love that first moment when I step into the slightly scalding water, and I love (WITH A PASSION) the feeling of relief I get as all the dried milk, baby spit-up, finger paints, and random food items (sometimes smushed in my hair) gets washed away. For those 10-15 minutes I have a lovely feeling of being just a woman (and not a mommy), and it is delicious. Even though I know it will only last a few moments before I'm once again scraping peanut butter off my arm or wearing a t-shirt with an apple juice stain on it. And I'm okay with that. As long as I get my time in the shower.
2. It is official that second children get treated differently than first children. Haven't decided yet if that is a good or a bad thing for Beckett. On the good end of the spectrum, second children seem to be (at least in our household) worried over less, which probably will lead to a healthy and non-twitchy kiddo. On the bad end of things, I have about two photos of our little man and instead of stressing about whether things are clean, sterile and steam sanitized, I find myself using lukewarm water and a prayer (on a good day) or my very own spit to clean items from pump parts to pacis.  And once I let the dog lick something clean (I think it was Beckett's head).
3. Some things never change. See this post about my magical nipples. Apparently, they have not lost their ability for good since Kate was a baby, as they are working their witching ways with Beckett. GOOOOO BOOBS!
4. Speaking of boobs, Beckett weighs a hefty 7 lbs. 14 oz. now, which means mine have moved to udder status quite well, thank you very much. Today was our two-week check in, and Beckett's stats are 22.25 inches long (95% so we have a tall boy like his daddy), 7 lbs. 14 oz. (45% so slightly below average) and his head circumference is 35.8 inches (40%). Really, nothing too interesting here, but have to put in the pertinent info because as I've outlined before, baby books likely ain't gonna happen, so I'm just planning to tell my kids to Google their info when they ask some day.
5. I picked up a pamphlet about temper tantrums at the doctor's office today. The title of the piece is "Temper Tantrums: A Normal Part of Growing Up." I don't really plan on reading it, but the subtitle makes me feel good somehow, so I'm just going to hang it on my fridge and stare at it every time Kate blows a gasket because she can't find her Cinderella doll, or I won't let her have a second brownie, or global warming pisses her off.
6. I also learned at the doctor's office that I am not a terrible mother (well, actually that wasn't confirmed, but ONE of my fears was laid to rest). For the last several days, I've been thinking that Beckett always has a load in his diaper because he smells funny, but half the time he is clean. So last night I'm holding him and thinking how much I love him, and then I'm thinking how bad he smells. And wondering if it is normal that I think my child stinks instead of thinking he smells like happiness. And THEN I start to worry that maybe HE doesn't smell, that I am smelling ME, so then I get all paranoid about my hygiene AND I think I'm a bad mother because I STILL think my baby smells bad. Fast forward to the doctors office and I find out that his umbilical cord is getting ready to fall off, and that is why it smells bad. There is nothing wrong, it isn't infected and he isn't going to always be the stinky kid in class, but that just happens sometimes. Whew. Still, I can't wait until that damn thing falls off so I can snuggle my baby and NOT think about breathing through my mouth instead of my nose.

I think that is about it for now. The house is still slightly quiet (except for the a/c repairman who will leave before my children wake up if he knows what is good for him) so I'm going to take a moment to make sure the house is in order, do some ironing, maybe bake some banana bread.... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Beckett is already hosting important business meetings with his stuffed animals. That or they are planning a raging kegger. 

My babies.

Kate during her daily dress-up routine -- I have to admit she makes an adorable Cinderella. However, everything must be just right, including her makeup, gloves, shoes and purse or she has a temper tantrum. But its okay, its "A Normal Part of Growing Up." Whew.

An early morning conversation

Lisa (friend and neighbor): Oh, I just love those little baby feet!

Ben: What is on his legs? Is that poop?

Me: Where? There? Gross, that could definitely be poop.

Lisa (Licking her finger and rubbing to see if it would come off): Hmmmm. Nope.

Ben: Could that be... marker? Is that marker?

Me: Huh, maybe. In fact, I think Kate was playing with a marker earlier. But the lid was on... Kate, did you write on Beckett with a marker?

Kate: (Nodding matter-of-factly) Uh-huh.

Me, Ben in tandem: (EYE ROLL)

Introducing Beckett Benjamin Edelbrock

Beckett Benjamin Edelbrock, born August 13, 2011 at 8:21 a.m. He was 20.5 inches long and 7 lbs. 9 oz. of pure, sweet, baby goodness. 

Daddy and Beckett in the delivery room. My two handsome men.

My little man and I the day we left the hospital. No, I'm not posting a photo of me from delivery day. Because every woman is allowed to be a LITTLE vain, and my puffy face and dead eyes from two days of no sleep did NOT display how wonderful and happy I felt to have our newest family member. Instead it looked like I'd just been jumped into the local gang (that means seriously beat up for all you folks who are not as street as I am. Word).