Holiday!

Christmas this year was fantastic - at least, it was once I unwound a bit. Ragsy got what he wanted (mostly) and behaved really well (mostly) and Evelyn slept somewhat well (kind of). The only black spot on the whole thing was me, and I made Christmas Day a lot harder on myself than it needed to be, but fortunately didn't impede anyone else from having fun.

I was wound tight as a spring, waiting for Ragsy to misbehave and spending way too much time trying to calm Evelyn, who was overstimulated and under-rested most of the day and night on Christmas Day. She was having a typical baby meltdown, which occurs when she gets way too stimulated. Ragsy went through the same thing the first time we took him on a trip. I should have expected it, but I must have blacked it out. I was trying to be everything to both kids, which just wasn't necessary.

It took my brother-in-law commenting on it the next day to make me realize that I was unnecessarily tense. His exact words were, "Wow, you were so laid back, but you've done a 180 since you had kids. Why? I hope Missy and I don't do that when we have kids." I'm lucky he's so candid; I think everyone else was afraid to tell me I was being too anxious. Anyway, once I relaxed, I had a fabulous time.

We did very little - mostly ate and talked. We also came to a couple of conclusions: next year instead of going out to a dress-up dinner at the country club on Christmas Eve with young children in tow (Missy will hopefully have some then, too), we're going to heat up some strombolis, make a bit salad and watch movies all night. Also, we're going to limit gifts to each other to one, possibly just drawing a name out of a hat and giving that one person and our own SO if we like a gift. All of us have the means to buy what we want and none of us wants more stuff, so excessive gift giving among us really doesn't make much sense. That will take a lot of pressure off.

Another thing I learned is the value of pacifiers. I had sworn up and down that I wouldn't use one. Until I had Evelyn. She needs to suck a lot more than Ragsy ever did. With him, if it wasn't food and he wasn't hungry, he refused to keep it in his mouth. Evelyn will nurse to the point of vomiting when she's stressed, which upsets her even more. Or she'll mistake her stress for hunger, start rooting, then get upset when she nurses too aggressively for simple comfort sucking and gets actual food. Then she'll rear back, shrieking, more upset than before.

Finally my sister went to Target and came back with a pacifier. I was dead set against it until Evelyn lost it for a few hours unless something was in her mouth. We tried it and her eyes rolled back in her head, her entire body relaxed and she fell asleep for the first time in hours and hours. As soon as she was under enough, the pacifier fell out and she kept sleeping. She just needed it enough to calm down. So, yeah - pacifiers? Totally worth it. She won't take one unless she's actually upset. Plus, breastfeeding has been solidly established, so I really don't have any reservations about using one in moderation. Once again, I eat my own words.

All in all, a very successful, fun and educational Christmas.

Great. Now what?

Okay. So I've had a baby. But what's next? Despite all my whining, I'm delighted to have Evelyn here. She is so much her own person, just like her big brother. Like Ragsy, it'll be completely fascinating to watch her grow. But, while I was pregnant, there were a lot of things that I set aside for "after the baby is born."

So, I'm making a list of goals that I want to achieve in the next six to 12 months or even longer, not because of the new year, but because a) Evelyn is here and b) I need to actually write these things down and a plan to achieve them, particularly since life just got more hectic, but in a good way.

So far, I have:

Lose 25 pounds. It's great that I already fit into my pre-pregnancy work clothes, but I was planning to lose weight to begin with. I should probably lose more than 25, but that's a good start. And now I have nothing to stop me. Back to Weight Watchers jiggity jig.

Find a new job. I'm bored senseless where I am now. So it's either get used to boredom, make my current job something interesting (not possible unless I take my boss's job), find a new job or make a new job. I think that latter two options are the best and most likely.

Get a financial plan. We have estate planning done, but now we need to figure out how to pay for college for two kids while still being able to retire when we want (when we want not meaning now, even if that really is when we want). I also want to put ourselves on a budget. Just because we have two incomes doesn't mean we need to spend all of both.

Get organized. We live like pigs. Every time someone comes over, you'd think we were in college, cleaning frantically before our parents show up. We can't keep doing this. It's ridiculous. We have to pick up all our crap just to scrub things. It shouldn't be this hard to clean the kitchen or vacuum the floor. And we can't have nice furniture in our bedroom or dining room until we get this clutter under control. Even more, I like having people over, dammit. It's fun.

Find more time for each other. Even before Evelyn was born, we rarely hired a sitter. We need to find one and take advantage of one more regularly.

Find more time for our friends. We both wish we were more social people. We're such hermits we hardly see the friends we do have. It's crazy because we really, really like our friends and every time we see them, we say, "Wow, why don't we do this more often?" The answer is that we perceive ourselves to be busier than we actually are. Okay, with Evelyn maybe that's not necessarily true. Also, our pediatrician said we need to keep her to ourselves for six weeks before we can take her out and about, but even so, it's not like she's not portable. She's easier to cart around than Ragsy (I usually win when I wrestle her).

Write more. I write all the time at work, but it's boring as hell. I need to keep up with my creative writing or I'll keep having this feeling that I'm wasting time.

Enjoy active time with our family. While I was pregnant, I tried really hard to spend a lot of time walking and doing outside stuff with Ragsy. And it was a lot of fun. Plus it's the only reason I fit into my work pants now. I want to make that standard.

Start researching schools. I have no clue what Ragsy will be doing for kindergarten and elementary school. We need to start thinking about it now.

Hmmm... Now for a plan of attack. But first, sleep. Why am I still up when I could be sleeping? Especially with a kid who's not even six weeks old?

Weekend.

This weekend was good. We were really busy and completely disorganized and, much as we hated it, had to turn down an opportunity to spend the evening with friends. Oh, yeah, and I turned the answering machine message indicator back on - my son had turned it off at some point. So if you called on Friday and I didn't get back to you, that's why. We really need to just get our voicemail electronically. It's too easy to screw with an answering machine.

Regardless, my combined total hours of sleep for the weekend was approximately five hours, which made me less than coherent, especially after a busy Saturday and Sunday morning/early afternoon. Hanging out with me would have been a bad idea, or really boring at best.

Getting Evelyn to sleep for her weekend naps wasn't quite as frustrating as it was the weekend before, not because the noise level in the house was any less and not because I was being hunted down less, but maybe because she's getting used to it. Maybe. Every time I make an assumption about this kid she changes, blowing whatever I said completely out of the water. I guess if you're developing that fast, it makes sense.

The best thing about having her, though, is that I'm a lot less resentful than I was when I had Ragsy. Isn't that horrible? But it's true that the first one is a huge shock. The second one makes things exponentially more difficult, but at least I know what to expect or, rather, not to expect (i.e., sleep, personal space, coherent thoughts), so I don't have to deal with as many mental challenges.

I also got to bake cookies with Ragsy, an activity I've been promising but incapable of fulfilling for a couple of weeks now. He loved every minute of it and ate almost an entire batch by himself in under ten minutes. It was kind of disgusting, but I swear I just turned away long enough to get some out of the oven and cut two or three new ones.

What else? I took Ragsy shopping at Ulta to get a gag gift for my sister. He almost knocked down a 10-foot halogen lamp, which, if knocked over, would have taken out several displays and potentially gone through a window. After that it was time to leave.

Other than that, the whole thing was still a blur of get up, nurse, walk walk walk, put baby down and pray to the powers that be that she'll sleep then get in bed and pass out, only to be awakened by Ragsy, who has taken to stripping the covers off me as soon as he gets in because he knows I'll doze off mid-sentence unless I'm cold. Oh, well. Whatever works, right? After that, it was feed everybody and bemoan my lack of personal hygiene.

Now that that's out of the way...

Okay, so I'm posting twice in quick succession. But this post has nothing to do with the previous post and, yes, I'm a dork about separating my subjects. It bothers me when there's no clear delineation, even in those posts where it's just stream of consciousness.

So, the subject of this post - Evelyn, of course. I'm going to freak out about my baby. She woke up this morning smiling her little face off. Every time I looked at her and smiled, she gave me this absolutely huge grin that lit her whole face up. Then she just lay there, kicking her feet and snorting with a huge grin on her face like she was trying to laugh but didn't quite know how.

Just when I'm getting frustrated from being stuck in this chair for marathon feedings and cluster feedings and just as I'm getting broken from so little sleep, she has to go and do something like make my day.

Surely you must be jesting.

And now for something only tangentially baby-related. Okay, probably not so tangential, but anyway... I was just contacted by my former employer for freelance work in case I needed something to do on maternity leave. Huh. Interesting.

I'm intrigued - mostly because, while I do have a bit more free time than I did previously, someone assumes that my brain is working well enough to do freelance work for them at a very high billing rate (because I have no compunction about raking them over the coals). I'm tempted to say yes because it'd be a lot of money doing something I spent years doing, so it'd be second nature. But at the same time, I've got a new baby, am sleeping about 3-4 hours a night on a good night and am right now unable to think of anything beyond a sleep-deprived "Bwuh?" The only coherent thought I've got right now is that I won't talk about it on Facebook. I probably shouldn't talk about it here, either, but my boss doesn't have a link to my blog, but he did friend me on Facebook.

He's a very nice guy, but at the same time, where is that line between friends and employer? Also, his boss friended him, so anything I say there could easily go up the chain to the senior VP of our company and right up to the CEO/owner. Ah, the Age of the Internet, where information is too available and you have to watch your back with your online friends.

Sensitivity my butt.

I've been having more than my usual number of brain farts and senior moments lately, likely induced by Evelyn's interesting choice in sleep patterns. Like an idiot, I had been patting myself on the back for having a baby that slept so well. Now I know better.

Those first few weeks were awesome. Heck, the beginning of this week was pretty good, too. We had a couple of nights where she'd be out for five hours, wake up to nurse, then out for another four. What bliss! But something happened in Evelyn's brain making her more alert during the day (wonderful!), more interactive and generally calmer because now she's interested enough in her surroundings that she wants to hang out and look at them. She's also smiling (it's not gas, dammit!) and cooing, welcome changes from earlier.

But... Her interest in her surroundings is making her more alert. All. The. Time. Unless, of course, someone is holding her or she's sleeping somewhere considered unsafe. I say considered unsafe because I really disagree that sleeping on our bed, particularly while we're not in it is unsafe; however, it's been pounded into me enough by everyone else other than her pediatrician that babies sleeping on the bed = bad, bad parent. Funny, though, that my pediatrician is so accepting of getting babies to sleep however you have to, co-sleeping and sleeping alone in the parents' bed for naps included, but many other people are not. My kid's pediatrician has made me feel good about every single decision I've made so far about my children while others have often been less than supportive. Go figure. I think it's largely cultural. She's from the Middle East where family beds are more common. My husband's family is the same - beds are usually custom-made depending upon the size of the family.

Anyway, Evelyn is also suddenly extremely sensitive to her tactile environment. She refuses to sleep without a hat, will not sleep without a swaddle, a particular blanket has to be placed in a certain location, etc. Unfortunately, what she's "sensitive" to changes every day and only unveils itself after several sleep deprived nights of wondering what the hell is going on. One day it was the hat. Another day we found out about the blanket. A few days ago it was the absence of white noise. Today I figured out that a seam in her bouncinette had been keeping her awake the past day. My opinion? We've given birth to Stewie #2 and she's screwing with me.

Babies, to wake:

Following are some fool-proof instructions on waking a baby. Many of you are likely aware of the following; however, I'm putting together a manual (okay, not really - I'm just strung out on sleep deprivation again). Anyway...

1. Brew a pot of delicious coffee or get whatever your morning crack happens to be. Whatever it is, it has to be hot.
2. Smell your cra... uh, that just sounds wrong. Smell your beverage or food. Doesn't it smell perfect?
3. Sit down and relax. Relaxation is key. It won't work if you're not relaxed.
4. Lift the cup or fork slowly to your lips, breathing deeply.
5. Tilt the cup or slide the food past your lips and...

Hah! Works every time. The above instructions can be adjusted for evenings, particularly mealtimes, or really any other time of day. Keep in mind, they don't work quite as well if you're contemplating something you theoretically could do with a baby in one hand or with the baby present (i.e., bringing a baby in its bouncinette into the shower, drinking a beverage or eating food that won't scald the baby if accidentally spilled or cramming food down your throat while standing up in the presence of a baby, screaming or otherwise).

You've got to be frakking kidding me.

Last night was bad. As in BAD. We haven't had a night quite like last night with Evelyn. Most of it is attributable to her not napping yesterday. The rest? Turns out she's a ridiculously persnickety kid. The not napping was bad, but after I put her down in the evening, she was up every 5-10 minutes unless someone was holding her. It was so bad that we just took turns holding her in the dark while the other finished their dinner around midnight. Finally, we got her to sleep around 1 a.m. and she woke again at 3:30 wanting to be fed. I both nursed her and, because she didn't seem satisfied with me, gave her some expressed milk to tank her up in the hopes she'd get some much-needed rest. I handed her over to my husband, who was apparently up with her until 7:30.

After she was fed this morning, I went to put her down for her nap. She would pass out every time I touched her, but wake immediately when I took my hand away. I was so strung out from sleep deprivation, my internal monologue went something like this:

Okay, okay. So she falls asleep when I touch her head. Okay. I have to figure out how to get something to touch her head all the time. What would do that? What? I could strap a washcloth to her head. No, that might slip and smother her. I need something that starts with the letter H. Um, helmet? Hand? No, no - the point is not having my hand on her all morning. Um... Ham? Wait, what? Oh! I know! A hat! Now where would I get a hat? And so on until I finally located a hat and put it on her. As soon as her ears were covered, her eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out for three hours.

Fast forward to just now. She's been sleeping more or less all day as long as she's being held. That's fine. She needs it - we're happy to help her to get her rested enough to sleep well tonight. So, I just went in to put her to sleep after tanking her up again to make sure she's not hungry. I put her down with her hat on, but now she won't sleep unless she has pressure on her chest. Otherwise she becomes a miniature Houdini, managing to escape from even the tightest swaddle. Other than my hand, it took me a while to think of a heavy blanket to put on her and tuck in. But I did, and she's asleep - for now. I wonder what it'll be tomorrow? Sound that bothers her? My very existence? Who knows? All I know is that she is anal as hell.

So much for schedules.

I had worked out a good schedule for weekdays with Evelyn: feeding in the morning followed by her blissed-out morning nap in the bouncinette for about two-ish hours while I eat lunch, shower and work out. Then more food, play for a while, more food and eventually we pass out together with her on my chest in the chair because nursing makes me incredibly sleepy, thanks to all those hormones. I can fight them in the morning, but can't in the afternoon. It doesn't help that Evelyn refuses to sleep anywhere but my chest in the afternoon. Already she has her preferences. Most involve being held by me. So after that, we nurse some more and get Ragsy.

Anyway, the whole point of this post is that, obviously, on weekends schedules go out the window. Mine, my husband's, Ragsy's and Evelyn's. Gone. Evelyn's schedule so far is key, however. But I'm not about to try to explain that to Ragsy because I don't want to create sibling rivalry where it's not necessary. But still... I have never been so tempted to throttle him as I was today. Every time I would get Evelyn almost down for her morning nap (eyes drooping, mouth starting to go slack), he would hunt me down and bellow something along the lines of, "See my train, mommy! Come see!" Evelyn's eyes would snap wide open like a doll's, creating yet another half hour of put-down time, which was unfortunate because Ragsy had asked to decorate the tree with me and my husband while Evelyn slept. Well, guess who never slept? Well, until now, of course, when she's in her afternoon nap mode and apparently must sleep on my chest. Grrr.

I even tried hiding in the basement. I was successful until I got into the bedroom. Just as I was leaning down to put Evelyn to bed, a madly giggling Ragsy rocketed by, waking Evelyn up. Again. So we've been tag-team parenting all day. Tag-team parenting meaning me putting Evelyn down and running out to spend time with Ragsy and my husband, then my spidey senses tingling only to have to pick Evelyn up yet again, put her down, rinse, repeat because Evelyn refuses to let anyone but me get in a 10-foot radius because she's so tired since she missed her morning nap.

Anyway, at least we finally got lunch. At about 3 p.m. I crammed a tuna sandwich down in about 10 minutes while nursing Evelyn and trying not to create a fishy-smelling baby. She's been permanently attached to my breast lately when she's not sleeping, unless I get really tired when I hand my husband a bottle of my stash and pass out.

Oh, well. The Christmas tree is up and Ragsy got to spend time with me. And to my shock, my husband managed to make box-mix cinnamon muffins by himself without asking me any questions, even, "What should we have?"! This is exciting because it has never happened before in our 8 years of living together. Even takeout has been preceded by multiple questions about what we should have, when we should have it and what method we'll use to get it. This was just...awesome.

Snarl.

It sounds like a lot of people had a crappy evening yesterday. Unfortunately, I was no exception. And, as usual, I'm prepared to vent. The day started out with me getting about an hour and a half of sleep. Then I had to drag Evelyn along with me to get a blood test, during which she shrieked most of the time unless I was holding her car seat and swinging it back and forth. When I had to pick up Ragsy at preschool, Evelyn in tow in her seat (apparently I'm still only supposed to lift 8-12 pounds; yeah, right - what idiot came up with that rule, especially when paternity leave doesn't exist in the U.S.?), Ragsy decided that it'd be a good time to start running down the sidewalk in the freezing cold. Normally I'm pretty calm, even during discipline. Today was not one of those days. I had to put Evelyn down briefly (protected from the wind only by a blanket), run after my kid whose hysterical laughter turned quickly to screams when I grabbed him by the arm, tucked him under one arm and picked up the car seat, hauling everyone to the car. It's not easy to get a screaming kid into the car while carrying a car seat in the other hand. I managed.

So, we got home. My husband forgot to call and tell me he would be late, so I was stuck again, with a starving infant at the breast while I hurried around to get easy-to-make food for a starving preschooler, not easy given that we were so out of staples we didn't even have bread, eggs or milk. Finally, everyone was fed, my husband got home and helped with Evelyn while I took care of Ragsy, who began shrieking while brushing his teeth because he was taking too long and I finally decided to put an end to it (yes, I know you're not supposed to hurry a kid, but I'm sure anyone would agree that 20 minutes to rinse one's mouth out is way too long). That wasn't received well.

Anyway, finally everyone got to bed, Evelyn included. It was 9:30 and time to go to the grocery. I got home around 10:30 and on the way received a voicemail from my husband, Evelyn shrieking in the background, who was apparently irate that I hadn't answered (I hadn't felt it vibrate even though it was in my back pocket). I got home and was snarled at, handed the kid who immediately calmed, then my husband unpacked the groceries. Finally, Evelyn was done nursing around 11:30 or 12 and it was time for me to get some dinner. I didn't want to bother, but I hadn't eaten since 11 a.m. The whole time this was going on, there was some palpable tension in the room with both of us mad at each other, and mad that the other was mad.

Finally, after my delicious bowl of cereal, we decided to go to bed. Of course, newborns being what they are, Evelyn chose the moment my head finally hit the pillow to wake up and begin shrieking. She was immediately handed to me. What did I do? I began to cry, of course. I guess the sleep deprivation had really gotten to me. My husband kept demanding to know what he should do. How the heck would I know? I'm hysterical! Finally, he took her and paced around our bedroom while she screamed - sometimes I think he does that deliberately so I'll take her - until I couldn't take it anymore and took her back. What did I do? I began crying again. That's the only logical thing to do, right? Finally, I decided that he'd change her and feed her a bottle of expressed milk because she usually nurses for at least an hour and I just didn't think I could take staying up until 2 or 3 a.m. My husband got a bottle and took over - not nicely; he decided to storm out of the room to get the bottle - and, since something was in her mouth, she quieted. I passed out.

I woke up and all was better. Of course, Ragsy was back in bed with us (Humpty Dumpty made yet another appearance - sometimes I wish he were afraid of monsters instead), but Evelyn, once fed well, often sleeps for 5+ hours, so I woke up at 7 a.m. when Ragsy grabbed my nose. Yes, he likes to hold my nose. Today is much, much better so far. It seems that Evelyn's growth spurt and the marathon nursing sessions associated with it have slowed down and my husband and I aren't mad anymore. And, even though it's not a habit we'd like to encourage, Ragsy is in a good mood from sleeping with us. Now I plan to get a workout, shower and eat lunch. A pipe dream? Absolutely. I've got to try anyway.

Which came first?

It occurred to me as I was getting out of the shower that nursing bras very closely resemble cut-out bras that you'd normally get at sex shops and Fredrick's of Hollywood. So I'm wondering which came first - the nursing bra or the cut out? I'm guessing it's the latter rather than the former. People tend to be much more interested in boobs for sex's sake rather than functionality, though I guess there is a nursing fetish (don't ask how I know - I don't want to go into it; let's just say I know and I've been scarred).

Anyway, I obviously have too much time in my head on my hands. I've been watching almost as much television as my mother typically does and nursing about 6-7 hours a day, giving me ridiculous amounts of time to think of this stuff. Yikes - Evelyn is waking up again. I just got her off the breast long enough to get some food. Too bad I wasted that time eating croutons and a handful of chocolate chips for lunch. Something tells me I need to plan some meals and get to the grocery - not easy with a kid on a growth spurt. Good thing I found my sling. Maybe we can even eat as a family one night this week.

Another day, another... well, another day.

I'm pretty dull at the moment, in two senses: I'm boring and I'm brain dead. Boring because I need to start reading news and actually doing stuff. Brain dead because it was another night of congestion. So, we found ourselves at 4 a.m., in a super steamy bathroom, bulb syringe in hand, baby in the other. What was really freaky was that she didn't struggle at all - she just laid there and allowed my husband to suction her. However, when I did it this afternoon, she screamed bloody murder. She's daddy's girl already.

I should feel rested, though, considering I got a whopping four hours of sleep tonight versus the hour I got the other day. Whatever. I guess this is something that just comes with the territory, especially when one kid is in pre-school.

I would've gotten two more hours of sleep had our son not shown up in our room at 4, letting me know that Humpty Dumpty was there and that he was scared of him. So, I went in to tell Humpty Dumpty to go away. That worked for all of 15 minutes. So I had to go threaten Humpty Dumpty with time out. That lasted 5 minutes. Once again, a demand for Humpty Dumpty to sod off. Finally, we caved and let Ragsy get into bed with us. By then it was 5 and Evelyn was waking up (thanks to our efforts to get Humpty Dumpty to leave), so the idea of sleep was basically a pipe dream.

Oh, well. Right now I'm sitting here, looking forward to the possible visit of a friend and listening to Evelyn start to wake up even though I walked her down for more than an hour and put her down maybe a half hour ago. There's just no sleep return on investment with this kid.

A mystery explained.

Last night it took me about an hour to get my daughter back to sleep after one of her marathon feeding sessions. I was getting really frustrated. Full stomach? Check. Dark room? Check. Limited interaction? Check. Dry butt? Check and check. What the heck was wrong?

Finally I decided it was time to leave the room and slowly swayed down the hall, holding her in the newborn straight jacket (a ridiculously tight swaddle - she's very strong). As I went down the hall, her eyelids immediately began to droop. By the time I reached the kitchen (maybe she wasn't so full), her eyes were rolling back in her head in an effort to remain conscious. By the time I'd reached the fridge, she was out and grinning in her sleep. So I slowly began working my way down the hall again. By the time I got to the really dark part outside our room, she began to scream. She's surely not old enough to be afraid of the dark, I thought.

So I turned around and walked away again. Again, she dropped off. Again, I began working my way toward the bedroom. And again she woke up and began screaming. So I decided to test a theory. I went to the end of the hall, walked back. Fall asleep, scream. I repeated a few times with the same results. What about our room was bothering her?

Then I heard a particularly loud snort and snore coming from the bedroom, followed by the sound of a buzz saw, otherwise known as my husband. Aha! Mystery solved. So I went to the family room and sat until she was fully asleep, then brought her into the bedroom during a break in the racket. Success! And she woke just once at 5 and she's still asleep. I guess I'll have to poke her soon, but first I'll enjoy a cup of coffee.

Narcolepsy.

I have newborn narcolepsy. I was lying in bed with my son this morning (he came in to snuggle) and he asked me to tell him the end of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, which we'd stopped last night because he was so wired he couldn't lie still.

Anyway, this morning I kept trailing off and falling asleep in the middle of sentences. He'd then wake me up to remind me that I'd promised to tell him the rest, only to have me doze off mid-sentence again. Poor kid. I'm going to offer to do it again tonight when I get him from pre-school. Hopefully I won't fall asleep mid-story this time.

Talking on maternity leave.

I forgot how many people call you "just to chat" when you're on maternity leave. I wish I liked talking on the phone more, because then I wouldn't mind that my mother, my brother-in-law and a few other family members have apparently determined that I'm not doing anything and would therefore like to spend an hour on the phone.

Okay, so the first part of that is true - I'm really not doing much. I've got Evelyn on my chest and obviously enough time to write two blog posts in one day. But still... My brother-in-law has called me twice (I've been screening) to tell me something "important," which means that Target has an electronics sale. My mom has called me asking me to call her back as soon as possible, again related to a retail purchase.

Now that's multitasking.

This whole post is going to be pretty much stream of consciousness. I've been watching too much TV. Anyway, I think I've finally joined the ranks of women who can do other stuff while breastfeeding. Last night, I found myself herding Ragsy around the house with Evelyn at the breast and talking to my husband on the phone (he was late getting home from work and has finally been trained enough to call me if he'll be late). I was stupidly proud of myself, even though I don't generally like talking on the phone while Ragsy's around.

Anyway, now I'm typing with a baby on my chest because my brain is rotting from the amount of TV I've been watching while parked in this chair. I've seen a movie, watched an episode of the Haunting and now, for some incomprehensible reason, I'm watching My Super Sweet 16. This must end.

Other than that, I had a temporary freak out today. This kid slept through the night last night, then took a three-hour nap this morning from which I could not wake her, even with diaper changes, clothing changes and generally pestering her. It was bad enough I actually called the doctor, who called me back and told me, "I think you just have a good baby. Most people would kill for a kid like that, but people who have them can't believe it - it makes them nervous instead. Enjoy it and feel free to call me if you still have questions." I love our pediatrician. Ok. I'm off. Evelyn reeks.