Still, a pretty good year

It's the year-end, celebrity-filled, blow-out, extravaganza!!!! Not really, I've never really been the type who needs to go to a giant New Year's "event", and this year, with the boy, is no exception. We are at my parents house for a New Year's smellebration. Literally, in a few hours this house will be full of delicious aromas that haunt my dreams. And we will dance to the records from my youth, songs that even today bring a smile to my face no matter where I am or what I'm doing.
So I guess it's appropriate for a look back, I promise it'll be a quick one, Domingo is about to wake up from his nap...

It was a year of things lost: I miss my waist, I miss sleeping, I miss being able to go to a movie (last night I tried to leave Domi at my parents' and go to my sister's to see a scary movie on DVD, but he woke up and was crying inconsolably, so I came running back, yeah the crying it out thing, not happening ANY time soon),
and a year of things gained (and not just weight): a new perspective on so many things, my relationships with family members have changed and become richer, my love and need for my little family has grown more than I could have imagined, my confidence in myself as a parent keeps increasing as the days go by and my son gets bigger, more active, and we continue to learn from one another.

And, Oh My God, did I mention that I'm now a PARENT!!! Who thought THAT was a good idea? It was almost exactly a year ago that we found out that we'd be having a little visitor come by for the duration. Several ups and downs later throughout the pregnancy, this miracle of a little boy emerged. It seemed like the longest year ever from seeing him for the first time as a tiny black bean on a screen, until the doctor said it was once again safe to run around and shake that baby out!
This year, in his (almost) four short months, Domingo has already grown and changed so much from the tiny little frog baby with the long skinny legs, curled up to his chin because mommy's torso is only three inches long, to the giant monster baby with the chubby little limbs and huge round belly that stretches out in all his long torsoed glory when he's asleep.

I have to admit, I, like all parents, was concerned about bringing another human being into this world, with all of its uncertainties and problems. Would I be a good parent, would I be able to provide for him, what kind of future will this child have? I would be responsible for another life, entirely dependent on me, am I capable of handling this?

But I know that this little being will be a force for good in the world, and that is the whole purpose of being alive isn't it? I'm looking forward to the coming year to see how much we all change and are made better by his being here. Already since his birth the democrats have regained Congress and the Cubs have signed Alfonso Soriano, so that's something right?
Happy New Year!!!

The boys are back in town

My brother was back in town for the holiday and spent the week with me and Domi this past week. Aside from just getting to hang out and get to know one another, Goose helped me out a lot with Domingo this week, it was great. Gustavo went to the grocery store with me and made us a delicious meal of pacific salmon and sushi rice on Wednesday, his favorite bread recipe on Thursday, and hung out and took care of Domi while I ran some errands several times. (It's amazing how much easier the whole thing is with two people!) We had fun and will miss him a lot when he goes back to Boston.

Tango Times Two

We went back to my parents' favorite restaurant Tango Sur, this time with Grandma, Farfar, tia Jennifer, Freya, tia Heather, tio James, and tio Gustavo. It was, as always, delicious. And the best part was that Domingo was a super star, again. It must be in the blood, or coming through the breast milk, but the boy loves that Argentine restaurant. The first time we went I thought it was just a fluke that he was so well behaved, but this is the second time we've been there and he was great! He only made a little peep when tio James commented on how good he was being, as if to say, "I'm only behaving because it suits me, not because you want me to!"
Earlier today we went to mom and baby yoga and Domi was really well behaved too! This woman actually commented on how mellow Domi was during class. What, MY CHILD? Not possible. But yes, just call him Zen master D!
Could this be the beginning of an all new mellow and fussless baby? Don't bet on it, Chris just went in his room to try and put him back to sleep! Oh well, one battle at a time I guess.

Christmas marathon and insanity 2006

This year we did our usual Xmas marathon of going to my parents', then to Chris's sister's for Christmas eve and then back to my parents' house. It's usually tiring, but this year with an infant in tow it was exhausting. Today we are going home to recover. Everything was really wonderful for Domingo's first noel.

Hobo Joe Junkpan* Jr. cleans up

All he needs is a harmonica and a bindle and he's ready to ride the rails. But the one on the bottom is how he went to baby yoga.
For what ever reason, I love these pajamas that he got from the twins with the toes cut out. The girls always had (and still have) really long toes, so their big toes would push out of their footy pjs and it was the funniest thing. Now they have left a legacy of footless pjs that look like costumes from li'l abner. So even though Domi has lots of pyjamas, my favorites are the Hobo pants.
*to learn more about hobo matters, read Hodgman's history of Hobos.

pretty gross: a cautionary tale

I debated quite a bit whether I should share this story, but after telling Chris last night, he got so much pleasure out of it, and then he was still laughing about it today, I figured why deny the world, but I warn you the following is not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach.
So last night Chris was out practicing with his band-mates, so I was left to do the evening routine by myself. This routine is pretty simple, a bath, a baby massage, a book, last call, and then to bed. Usually Chris takes the bath and the to bed portions.
By way of background, recently Domingo has outgrown the little "tub" we had been using, (I think it was an old plastic laundry basket, but whatever) and we had started putting Domi in the bath tub, but since he can't sit up by himself yet, Chris gets in with him. So last night I got the bath ready and got in with Domi. He was kicking and splashing, he's really gotten into taking his bath, it's really relaxing for him. Almost too relaxing...
So I put some shampoo in his hair and was about to start washing when he lets out these two cute little toots. Ha! I start to smirk and probably think of something to say like, "my word!" or "excuse you!" when there is a very loud very giant poop explosion that comes out of my son's rear. I had less than a nanosecond to react, but those "mother" instincts are so fast, I yanked him out of the water just as the semi-solid dispersed and the water was a yellow cloud.
So there I was, sitting in a tub of poop, holding my naked, confused, and still shampooed son up in the air. Good times. I knew that there would be no help to come home for hours so I got up rinsed off myself and the boy and left the gross tub for Daddy to deal with when he got home.
The moral: don't leave your fatherly duties to your wife, or you'll end up cleaning your son's dooties off the bathtub floor.

It's like Fort Knox for breast milk!

Ah my glorious stock pile. What you can't see in the picture is behind the coffee and frozen ravioli are more bags of frozen breast milk, and that white container on the right is filled with more milk! (What you can see is not one but two pints of Ben and Jerry's and a container of cookie dough, um why am I still 10 pounds overweight? and yes mommy, I know I need to clean out my freezer, I'll get to it someday.)
These wonderful bags are taking over our freezer and it fills me with a bizarre sense of joy and pride. Soon it will dwindle down to nothing.
It's so funny to me that Domi can nurse as much as he likes, and that's a whole lot, and it doesn't bother me at all, but when someone thaws a bag of milk I feel totally proprietary. I feel a personal affront, like they are stealing from me. That person is almost always Chris, and I still feel this way. I know it's important for Domi to be comfortable taking a bottle as this will be his main source of food very soon. I also know that it's good for Chris to bond with Domi and feel that loving glow that comes from nourishing the little eating machine. He makes the most hilarious smacking and sighing and grunting sounds when he eats, then when he's full he "talks" to the boob, like it's his own little microphone, it's hilarious. (Domi does this, not Chris)
But still, these bags are mine! I worked so hard to get them. While Chris was already relaxing, or worse, sleeping in bed, I was out in the living room pumping away to make sure my supply stays up, and to have a little cache for when I start working. And although it comes in a stylish black back pack don't let that fool you, I don't know if you've ever been to a dairy farm but the technology is exactly the same, I feel and look like a cow when hooked up to this machine. It's never been a fantasy of mine.
So forgive my selfishness, and ignore my pained expression (ha) when you thaw the milk. I know it's for the best. But for the love of all that is holy, DO NOT THROW ANY OF IT DOWN THE DRAIN! I don't care that Domi didn't take it all in one sitting, put it back in the fridge and try again later.

It's official

So we've found someone to be a nanny for when I go back to work. After a pretty short interviewing process we met Anna who, starting January 8, will be spending her days in Domi's world. This picture pretty much sums up how I feel about this.
On the one hand, for a variety of reasons, I feel like going back to work is an important and necessary thing I have to do. On the other hand, it totally sucks. I've had long conversations with people about this subject, and I know I've posted on this issue before, but it's really been on my mind lately. I find myself getting really sad and wondering if he'll notice that I'm not around. I mean he's still just a tiny baby, does it really matter who feeds him, plays with him, carries him around during the day? (Yes) Then there are other worries I have like, what if he gets really attached to this woman and then she leaves? Or what if he likes her more than me? I've always been the jealous type, but seriously, I will go INSANE.
One good thing is I'm sure I'll appreciate every minute I have to spend with Domi. I'll also be much more reluctant to hand Domi over to Chris when he gets home from work or on the weekend. But I'm sure I'll be exhausted from working, so will I really have enough energy during the time I do spend with him to be a good parent? And dear Lord, what if the sleeping doesn't get better! I'll jump out the window (luckily my office is on the ground floor, so I won't be hurt, but still ).
The good news is nothing is set in stone. If after a few months I realize it's not working out, or I'm miserable, we can reevaluate and go from there.
I know I shouldn't obsess too much, and enjoy my last three weeks at home with him, but what can I say, that's just what I do.

Sick!

Never fear, it's not Domi. This weekend I was really, really, miserably sick. I think it was the beginings of a breast infection, or the end of the world, I couldn't really tell which. I had a raging fever, but was so cold, and *too much information alert* my breast hurt so much and it felt like it was on fire. Chris stayed home sick today because I was so weak I couldn't even pick up the little giant. But after a day in bed, and some meds, I feel so much better. God bless Alexander Fleming.

D-OHM-ingo

So today we went to mom-baby yoga class. It was the first time I actually made it there, because usually Domi is taking a nap at the time we would have to go. But lately he's been getting up at 10:30, just enough time to get him dressed, and lug him/carseat/Oslo(no it's not a mom/baby/dog yoga class, but wouldn't that be awesome? But I have to take him and leave him in the car (when it's nice out) or my nasty nieghbor will complain that he barks.) and myself to the studio that's only 10 minutes away. It's so funny how things take exponentially longer than they did pre-baby.
Anyway, the class was interesting, even if not entirely restorative. It was pretty much what I had anticipated, more of a place for mothers to get out of the house, and to meet and get to know each other. It was nice to get out of the house, but it's hard to focus on your breathing, or even do all the poses when you have to feed, change, bounce and so on, and try to keep up with what's going on in class. I must say, Domi was a real sport for most of the class, but at 1 hour and a half, it's just a little too long for him to handle. So he started having a melt down and I ran out of there without even picking up my props. How gauche! But we got home just as his little eyes couldn't stay open another minute!

Domi is definitely a LARGE baby. We were in between a 7 month old girl and a 6 month old girl, they were all pretty much the same size. He was also the "chattiest" baby in the class. Most of the other babies just hung out, slept, or fussed quietly, and Domi was talking and talking really loudly, laughing and looking around. Then in typical Domi-fashion, in an instant he had had enough so we were out of there!

Oddly enough, I felt really young being in that class. It was composed of stay at home mothers who (at least to me) looked to be in their mid to late 30's and early 40's. I know I'm in the last gasp of my 20's, and therefore no spring chick, but I still felt sort of out of place, an inexperienced youngster whose baby was not getting into the spirit of the yoga experience. Then again that could just be my own insecurities.

I only took one picture, it was as I was putting on my shoes on our way out the door and Domi was in between screams. It's not very yoga-y, but in my excitement I forgot to bring the camera into the studio when he was on the mat. We'll see if I make it again next week, but if not, at least we learned how to say Namaste for babies!

You want the cute?

You can't handle the cute!

Losing what was left of my fragile little mind

Somewhere in this building, someone is doing some kind of construction/renovation. And while normally I would have no real problem with that, (although while I was trapped here on bed rest and it happened, I was ready to pack it in an move in with my parents) the buzz saw/jack hammer combination that they apparently need to renovate sounds like it's in every room of this apartment. There is no escape. Even that wouldn't be such a big deal IF they wouldn't do it RIGHT at the moment Domingo is TRYING TO SLEEP!!!!! (And it's not like Domi can't sleep unless there is total silence, he fell asleep in the bjorn in the Macy's women's department fitting room, on a Saturday, before Christmas, for goddness sake.) It's incredible, it's like who ever is wielding the doomsday drill up there knows right when Domi starts rubbing his eyes is the precise moment to start to go full throttle. Of course I know that's not true, but the noise, the exhausted baby, the exhausted mommy, all add up to the crazy lady writing this post.

Update!

The strike ended at 11:23 a.m., I knew that I just had to be patient and let nature take it's course, but this is my first time dealing with this stuff, so I'm allowed to freak out over nothing.
It was, as you'd expect after two days of waiting, a lot of poop. A three diaper job actually, and his onesie will never be the same. Fittingly enough, it was one of the hand-me-downs from the twins that has printed on the front "I was worth the wait". Indeed.
But this is definitely the face of relief.

No news is good news?

And by news I mean poops, and by good I mean troubling. It's been 2 days that Domi has been on poop strike. Usually he's like clockwork, at 6 a.m. we hear the bombs going off in the pack-n-play, and it's like a nasty little alarm clock. But for the past 2 days it's been all sound and no fury if you know what I mean (ok, I don't even know what I mean, so I won't blame you for not getting the references). So what to do? Everything I've read says that breastfed babies are rarely constipated, that sometimes it just takes a few days for things to work out of the system, but I'm starting to get concerned. It might be time for me to get my degree in poopology from Google University to set my mind at ease, or to freak me out completely. We'll see which one it is. And not to worry, I'll keep the blogosphere posted on the "strike" situation!

somebody spell this kid some relief!

baby's first steak

Not literally, but we did go to Tango Sur with abuela and abuelo and you were a star! It was your first trip to our favorite restaurant. Everyone said what a perfect little gentleman you were, and that you were very cute. You were so well behaved that abuela said that you can come out to dinner with her anytime. That's a very important invitation, since we spend lots of time out to dinner! Mommy had a great steak and we got you back home in time for bed and you didn't cry a bit. We'll definitely do that again!

Tummy time...

The only time when those under-chins see the light of day.

3 months

I can't believe it's here already, the one month anniversary of this blog! Just kidding, Domingo you are three months old. These past three months have gone by both at lightning speed, and oddly enough, at a snail's pace.
You are really a creature of habit, and have developed a pretty good routine during the day. We play on your mat, play in your crib, and when you get sleepy you have gotten really good at taking naps! Sometimes you wake up happy and talking, other times you wake up with a cry. Either way I come running, scoop you up with a kiss and we go off to play.
You have a routine at night too, but I'm just not as fond of it. You are still waking up a lot, and you want to be nursed back to sleep, and while I love snuggling with you, I'd love to sleep more than an hour at a time too. Someday soon I know you'll make it through the night. You've almost completely outgrown the swaddling blanket, and when you break free, it wakes you up quite a bit. (Daddy bought a bigger one in a different style and you were out of it and awake in 15 minutes.)
You are growing and changing every day. According to my measurements, you are 26 inches long, and at last check weigh about 15 pounds! You are so wide awake to the world now. You smile and coo and laugh a hearty laugh all the time, especially when Farfar calls you a "gris ungen" or pig baby!
You are so alert and active. You have gotten really good at grabbing your toys when I hold them out to you, and are so close to grabbing your elephant "Ernesto" that dangles down from your play mat. You rolled over this month about 10 times, but then either forgot how, or got too heavy to push over. But I know you'll figure it out again soon. You are so active even in your sleep. I put you down in your crib one direction and when you wake up you have squirmed around 90 degrees.
I love spending the day with you, singing songs, taking pictures, and watching you change and grow. I can't wait to see what the next day will bring.

Hilarious

Grandma and Farfar are in town this week. They came over yesterday to play for a while with Tia Jennifer and Theo.




Farfar is calling Domi a "gris ungen" which is apparently the funniest joke of the year. I looked it up, it means pig child, hmm, why is that so funny? Doesn't it hit a touch too close to home?
Meanwhile, Theo is trying to get Domi hooked on the book! But Domi's not really having it. All told, it was a fun visit.

Sushi Mama

So last night I was invited by the ladies of Chris's family for a "girls night out". I wish to send out my deepest thanks. It was fantastic. We went to my favorite sushi restaurant, Mirai. It was my first night out away from the little lamprey, but he and Chris had some Daddy-Domi time, p.m. edition. The place, besides having amazing food, has lots of sentimental associations for me. It's around the corner from Chris's old apartment, in his old neighborhood where I spent so much time while we were dating. He actually proposed on our way to eat dinner there. (He couldn't wait to actually get to the restaurant, so he proposed at the corner by this tree with intertwining branches. The tree is still there. After he asked and I accepted, he asked if I still wanted to go to dinner. I was like, um, yeah, I was promised Mirai sushi, marriage doesn't change that!)
Anyway, when Chris lived there, the neighborhood wasn't exactly as posh as it has become. Driving around looking for parking was never a problem back in the old days. There is also something really depressing about seeing hideous new construction cement blocks filled with rich Lincoln Park types, where there used to be old brick three flats, with weird arty types living inside. Oh well, that's progress I suppose.
But what hasn't changed was the food at Mirai. Everything was so wonderful. I hadn't been there for months. (Yes along with nearly chopping off Domi's finger while trimming his nails, I am also up for the bad mother of the century award for eating sushi while pregnant, vote for me!) Even my sister-in-law who is recently returned from Japan, and no stranger to the real raw deal, said that this sushi, by any standards, was superb. The only downer was that I was reminded of the plight of the tuna and it's state of near collapse from over fishing. Unfortunately for the tuna, it is much too delicious to be long for this world.
Well, the evening was a real treat, I had some wonderful, stimulating, adult conversations, the boys survived, and Grandma came home with me to hang out with Domi in the morning, so I got to sleep in!! Girls night out MUST become a tradition.

How to keep your dog from begging for one day

You stuff him so full that he nearly explodes. Ah yes Oslo. Looking through my posts I can't believe I have yet to mention the chup. This dog was never so happy in all his life than when I was on bed rest. We got to spend all day together lounging on the sofa, or in bed. Then when the little intruder showed up, Oslo gave me the silent treatment for 3 weeks, but then all was forgiven and I'm back in his good graces now.
Ridiculous as he has become, as Chris says, we are in it to win it with this dog. (Win what you ask? Didn't we mention Oslo is an eccentric millionaire that each year sponsors a race around the world? And to the winner goes the prize of unimaginable splendor. Ah, to be chosen for that race!)
So yes, he's 14 years young, completely blind, mostly deaf, arthritic, with few remaining teeth, he howls when he's left home alone, and barks at the toilet when he's thirsty, but, he's ours. Oh yes there is also the little matter of his non-functioning bladder. Let's just say, he's not welcome many places.
So back to the story, this weekend, we were at my parents' house. My mom (the world's biggest spoiler) said to me, "I have a bone for Oslo, can I give it to him?" I said sure, thinking it would keep him quiet while I took a nap, and continued on upstairs. I didn't see said bone, which looked more like something suitable for the set of Jurassic Park than for a dog, until after it was too late.
Why oh why didn't we see it coming. He was too quiet, too well behaved, too busy eating to the point of exploding. Those who survived what is now referred to as "the bone incident" will be forever scarred.
Well he ate practically his own weight in meat and bone, and was sick as a dog the whole next day. He really acted like he had the world's worst hangover. But did this old dog learn anything? The saying in this case is apt. He was under the dinner table the next night, his cold nose bumping into everyone's legs asking, "are you gonna eat all that chicken?"

Hoppy Birday

So it was Tia May's birthday yesterday and we came to Morris to celebrate. Nobody knows how old she is. According to her papers she's 92, but she always used to say that she didn't get a birth certificate until she was 5 or 6 and then they wrote down her birthday and year incorrectly, making her two or three years older than she actually is. It's not that surprising considering the time and place she was born, Paraguay at some point in the early part of the 20th century. But then again, I seem to remember several years in a row when she turned 89, so no one really knows her age for sure.
At any rate, Domi was actually an angel in the restaurant. We played musical laps and then while we were eating he hung out for a really long time in his car seat, bizarre! Then it was over to Leticia's to open presents and have dessert so that the girls could sing happy birthday. (They did not come to the restaurant as we couldn't expect them to stay on laps or in carseats, they are not content until they have conquered and destroyed all in their wake.) They just had their birthdays in October, and then Ian and I had ours in November, so they've really gotten into the whole birthday "scene" recently. In their little Spanish accents it comes out "Hoppy Birday to you", it's pretty hilarious. Then they were running around like little maniacs, pretending to be airplanes, doing Chinese splits, and periodically yelling out "ta da" for no apparent reason. At one point during the mania, while Chris was changing Domi's diaper, Sofia ran over pointed at his penis and said, "that's his finger, that's his finger". Ok... That kind of makes sense. Then Graciela lifted up her shirt to "feed" her baby milk. It's a mad house over there. Well at least it was a memorable birthday party, even if no one remembers how old Tia May turned!

He's a maniac, maniac...

This outfit has been dubbed "flashdance" and Domi was appropriately working it for the camera. I don't know what kind of baby could fit into this onesie. Domi is obviously no skinny mini, but this onesie is too small lengthwise and is WAY too wide, hence the off the shoulder/plunging neckline look. It must be for a chubby baby with a very short torso, not like Domi who is all torso and all chub! But this outfit works for practicing our awesome moves before the big audition, all he needs is a sweatband and some leg warmers.