Nolievolution

Ah, Nolie.  Nolie has undergone a complete transformation in the last few weeks, and just in time.  We've been so busy dealing with Addie and her many nose hole issues, that if Nolie had also been up to her old shenanigans, we would have been in big trouble.

As it is, though, she's been a delight on most fronts.  She puts herself to sleep in her crib now, unswaddled, making sweet, sweet yummies with her Gigi blanket.  She stays asleep all night, waking at 5:30 for a bottle, but then going back to sleep, sometimes UNTIL 8:30!  She holds her own bottle, which means we can all sleep lying down, so my lower back isn't in a perpetual state of crankiness.  She jumps like a maniac in her Johnny Jumper, and plays in her "office":

 

Also, she is wicked cute.  She has the roundest face I've ever seen, and ears that stick out a little, and the most glorious smile.  She is many, many fistfuls of chubby-mc-chub-loveliness.

Oh, there are a few annoying things.  She still urps constantly--so much so that we think we probably need to talk to the pediatrician about it, and maybe switch to a different formula (she's already on the soy kind), or put her back on Zantac for a while.  Honestly, though, I don't feel like I can really deal with this until we know more what's going on with Addie.  I'm having to prioritize a little, and we can deal with a little urp better than we can with a kid who is not breathing.

Nolie is also not stranger-friendly.  If someone other than her dad, me, or Miss Debbie even so much as looks at her, out comes the lower lip, and she begins to wail.  Other people, in essence, freak her out.  But she'll grow out of this, too.

Mostly, I fall in love with her a little more every day, and am watching her personality start to emerge.  She is a happy baby, finally, and starting to explore the world a little on her own.  With the second child, it's easier to see this process happen on its own, without being so invested in guiding and shaping every second of it (or feeling guilt and worry over it).  Nolie is evolving, at her own pace, with us there to accompany her, nudging her now and then, but mostly letting her find her own self. 

Spring Cleaning

We're moving into overdrive to try to get the house ready to put on the market in April.  All the million and one little projects left undone over the past four years are now being revisited:  a new faucet for the clawfoot; finishing work on the built-in bookshelves; getting the wood floors refinished.  I've packed away boxes and boxes of photos and knick-knacks and extras and extras and extras.  We'll get a storage unit next month to put all of our "extra" stuff in.  Here's what the living room used to look like, furniture in every corner, this horrid, geometric-patterned rug that I keep begging Eric to let me get rid of:

So, although we seem to maintain a puzzling level of clutter around the house (kids, dogs, cats, and all their necessary stuff), things are definitely looking thinned out and, well, finished.  And I really, really like it.

I know I'll be happy to see all our stuff when we move, that I'll unwrap yet another duvet cover or set of coffee mugs and say, "Hey!  I love these!  Glad to see you, old friends!"  But for now I'm equally pleased to pack it all away, to live a simpler life for a while.  The house looks pretty darn zen, with the exception of our basement, which looks like a tornado hit Kmart and deposited all of its detritus there. 

It's also exciting to see things a little more polished--I can't wait to see the floors free of paint splatters and splinters, to see the railing on the Juliet balcony completed, to see all the nail-holes filled.

It's strange, of course, to know that we're doing all of this for someone else--whoever owns our house next.  I know there's an outside chance we won't sell, and then I guess we'll get to enjoy all of this for another year.  But chances are, someone will buy this place at some point, and we'll move on to a new house (and new house projects).  So I'm looking around at this old house, which has no right angles and uneven plaster, and missing it a little, already.  Our first house.

 

Nolie Sleep Quest 2007 

Are you wondering how things are going with Nolie?  Well, we have mixed results.  She's went down unswaddled fine last night.  She woke up twice, but put herself back to sleep both times.  Then, she woke up at 11:30 inconsolable, and I gave in and swaddled and nursed her back down.  Same thing at 4am.  But then she woke two more times before 8am, and put herself back to sleep both times.  I view this as an awkward sort of progress.

Both naps today, she went down unswaddled, no problem.  She's really starting to bond with her Gigi blanky, and is falling asleep in my arms without too much problem (before, she'd only go down for Eric, who nearly had to suffocate her to get her asleep).

Baby steps, in other words.  But this feels much better than just throwing her in her crib and letting her howl it out.  That just wasn't working for any of us.  I'm still getting up at night, but feel like there's forward progress, however incremental.

Magnolia Blooms

 

I've done my fair share of kvetching about Nolie on this blog, about how she goes on 10-day poop strikes--usually followed by a giant poonami that wipes out everything in its path.  I've written about the hours-long, thigh-breaking death swaddles it takes to get her to sleep.  I've written about her grunting, and her nipple-stretching, and her monumental urps.  I've written about her looking like Ernest Borgnine.

So, it's nice to report that I think Nolie has turned some corners.  For starters, she's eating baby food now, and also soy formula for all but one or two feedings a day.  This means that she poops everyday--kibbles, usually, but poops nonetheless.  As a result, she is much more pleasant to be around, and generally smells better, too.  My boobs are returning to a much more reasonable size, and I'm not eating everything in my path.  All welcome turns of events.

Also, we finally committed to letting her cry it out some, and though it was very difficult and seemingly unsuccessful at first, she is really doing a good job of putting herself to sleep now.  Twice yesterday, in fact, I put her down for her naps very tired but pretty much awake, and within ten minutes both times she was out.  If she cries longer than that, we know there is something wrong; maybe she's still hungry (she eats like a sumo), or she's got kibbles in her drawers.  Otherwise, she's going down pretty well--still swaddled, but we have her out of the bouncy chair now and in her crib, and we are not breaking our backs walking her around, trying to get her to sleep.  She's also doing better at Miss Debbie's, which makes going back to work a lot easier.

Finally, and maybe most importantly, she's starting to have a personality.  She is reaching for things and starting to recognize words (mostly "kitty" and "baba" at the moment).  She smiles and laughs a lot, and wants to play with her sister all the time, which drives Addie nuts.  She's awake and alert and really, really cute. 

Welcome, Magnolia Jade, to the world.  It's exciting to witness your awakenings, large and small.

Breakthrough Two

 

I've written about breakthroughs before--just when you think you're going to throw your child out the window from frustration, they change in some small way that gives you hope or makes life just that much easier so that you close that window and decide to keep the kid after all.  This is a good thing to remember, if you can, when you're going through a rough patch with your kid(s). 

In Denver, we have a saying:  "If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes."  Things are constantly changing.  My friend Cortney (mom of two) gave me this advice when I was pregnant with Addie:  Things change about every three weeks, she said.  You may think you've got something good going, and in three weeks, you may have to invent a whole new way of doing that thing.  Same goes for struggles, though--wait three weeks, and the problem will probably have resolved itself without your doing anything.

I wrote a few days ago about Nolie's exhausting sleep routine (exhausting for us--not for her).  I've been struggling with when to let Nolie cry it out--when to give her the chance to soothe herself to sleep.  It's been tough to make this choice, because several nights a week, she goes to sleep pretty well with the exhausting sleep routine, and hearing her scream in her crib has been akin to nails on the chalkboard.  But the nights and naptimes that it isn't working, or only works after several hours, are increasing in number.  So, I've just been sort of waiting for the tipping point.

Which was last night.  Nolie went down after Eric gave her the "treatment" at 8pm; she woke at 1am, and I fed her.  She feel asleep, but was up again 20 minutes later.  I fed her again, but at some point I looked down at her, and her eyes were wide open.  She gave me a big grin, and I knew we were in for it.  Two and a half hours of her cooing and playing and whining later, I handed her over to Eric for the second "treatment."  Thankfully, she slept until 8.  Maybe I'm spoiled.  Maybe this doesn't sound that bad.  But to me, it felt like misery.  I haven't been sleeping well for several nights now, and this just felt like the capper.  Plus, it is about 30 degrees in our house at night, making staying up with baby that much tougher.

So, once Nolie was giving some tired signs this morning, I put her down in her crib, unswaddled and out of her bouncy chair.

No dice.

Then, inspiration.  Change something else.  To my great surprise, Nolie downed her first two bowls of rice cereal like they were manna.  This made me happy--Nolie is one step closer to people-ness:  she eats food! (dreams of normal-size breasts dance in my head).  Then the sleepy signs really increased, so I gave Noles the death swaddle and laid her down in the crib (no bouncy seat) and made a commitment to myself to let her cry for at least an hour.

Ah-ha!  Five minutes of very loud screaming later?  Quiet Nolie.  Sleeping Nolie.

A few minutes ago she awoke and cried a little.  I didn't go in right away, and she quieted herself.  She's sleeping again now.  The season of miracles, indeed.

Will we be able to replicate this tonight?  I hope so.  But breakthroughs have their fits and starts.  The point is that there's hope, and maybe more sleep, in our future.

Death Swaddles and Lullabies

 

Nolie's been a pretty good sleeper, really.  Oh, there will be a night or two a week where she'll wake up two or three times to eat, but that's usually because her stomach is gassy from not pooping, and it passes (you know, passes).  But she's definitely not a nightmare sleeper, not a kid who screams all night or who has to be held constantly or who we're going to have to kick out of the family bed at thirteen [ed. note:  There's nothing wrong with the family bed.  We co-slept with both our kids for the first few months of their lives, until they became hot and squirmy and slept better in their cribs].

In fact, Nolie sleeps through the night four or five nights a week; if she does wake up, it's usually for a quick top-off from the old nip, and back she goes. 

Here's the thing, though.  It's kind of a production to actually get her to sleep.  First, she has to be in a death-swaddle, one that Eric is extremely proficient at executing, in which she is unable to move any limbs.  Second, said swaddle has to be in one of the hospital receiving blankets (the pink and blue striped kind) which we thankfully stole from Presbyterian/St. Luke's after her birth.  Third, she has to be tightly wrapped in her kiddopotamus, so that she can't break out of the death swaddle.  We only own two of these because they're a little pricey and I refuse to buy any more baby gear than is absolutely necessary.  The problem is, Nolie is constantly doing the milk hork all over herself, and so these things have to be washed pretty much every other day.  Great.

Then, she has to be nearly suffocated while we carry her around in the back-breaking, quad-building tango my brother-in-law Steve calls the "Thunder Moccasin Dance" (he has perfected this with his own children, who require no such insane swaddling).  I often do this with my boob in her mouth; Eric muffles her cries in the crook of his arm until she hyperventilates and passes out.

Then, once she is totally quiet, she is placed in a bouncy seat, sans any hangy-things, vibrations, or other distractions.  This bouncy seat is placed, a little precariously, in the crib.

Eric and I keep wondering to ourselves if this is a good thing.  Nolie is getting kind of big, and at some point could ostensibly wiggle herself out of the baby seat, thus cracking her noggin a good one on the crib slats.  It also seems a little weird to us that she's still so into the swaddle--most kids have definitely outgrown it by four months, my web-sleuthing reveals (and, Addie did).  I suppose there is a lame-ass part of us that worries she'll be stunted by not being able to move any of her limbs.  I suppose there is a lame-ass part of me that worries that this baby is going to be insanely needy for the rest of her life. 

Mostly, though, I think we would like to whittle down the production somewhat.  We'd like to shave off a step or two and maybe, just maybe, take a nap ourselves someday.

As a result, today, I tried feeding Nolie in the rocker, unswaddled, until she fell asleep.  Once she (and my left arm) seemed soundly asleep, I tried to lay her in the crib. 

Uh, no.

Two hours of repeating this process over and over and over again, and Nolie was wide awake, looking up at me and giggling.  I suppose she had her nap, though interrupted, and was ready to rock.  I gave her over to Eric, who played with her a while, swaddled her, and has her sleeping peacefully in his arms as I write this.  I had to soak in a hot bath, my nerves and lower back worse for the wear (Eric, on the other hand, is fine.  I wore the baby out for him, and it's football season, so he has an excuse to just hang on the couch anyway).

Nolie has quite clearly let us know that she likes what she likes the way she likes it.

Anyway, the production continues.  My instincts tell me not to force it (like I did with the potty training fiasco this fall), that Nolie will tell us when she's ready to sleep unsheathed.  To paraphrase our good buddy Dr. Sears, whatever works, man.  Whatever works.