As I was thinking back on what kind of excitement we’ve had around here the past month, I realized that I better start writing STAT! because, dude, there’s so much to say. Avalon, you have changed so drastically since last month that it’s like I barely even know who you are. That unpredictable, fussy infant has turned into a happy, smiling, routine-oriented baby. It’s so ironic the way life always turns out differently than what we expect. For me, I thought that my favorite age would be when you were brand spankin’ new, just a tiny little infant and that those three month olds? Meh. BOOORINGGG. They’re not cute itty, bitty bugs anymore. Which obviously is true. You’re a giant compared to your infant self. But you know what? You are so fun and cuter than ever! And corny as it sounds, you just get better and better every day. This age is proving to be really fun for both of us.

So like I said, a lot of things have happened this month. First of all, I weaned you off of breast milk and on to formula. I think it happened gradually enough that it never really phased you at all, except for maybe all the not-pooping you did for a couple of days. Once we got over that hurdle though it’s been smooth sailing ever since. However, I gotta admit, that formula stuff is nasty, man. The smell, OH, THE STANK, I’m really not sure how you manage to chug that stuff down a zillion times a day. Seriously, if I could mix in some chocolate syrup or Kahlua for you I totally would, and you know why? Because we’re a team AND I WOULD EXPECT YOU TO DO THE SAME FOR ME. But the best part about moving you to formula? I HAVE MY LITTLE BOOBS BACK! I never thought I would be so grateful for my A-cup boobs, and I’m sure when you’re sixteen and most likely have some A-cup boobs yourself you’ll think I’m crazy for not enjoying those grapefruits I had on my chest for ten weeks, but I don’t know, I guess I just really enjoy the option of going braless from time to time. TMI? Sorry, for a second I forgot who I was and that you don’t want to know those things about YOUR MOM, EWWW. Anyway, you also moved up to your own bedroom this month which was another really smooth transition. And you are now wearing cloth diapers. And you can look me in the eyes and smile. And you even laughed out loud the other day! Apparently you were ready for some change in your life at two and half months because THINGS. THEY CHANGED.

You have pretty much settled into a bedtime routine now, which you know your anal-retentive, Type A mother loves. You go to bed around 8 and then I come up and give you a “dream feed” around 10. Bet you didn’t know you were getting a little midnight snack, did you? I come in and pick you up while you’re off in dreamland and you do this adorable little stretch thing that you’ve done since you were born and that I just love: you arch your back, throw your head back, hug your legs up tight to your tummy, and curl your little feet in towards each other. Then you pretty much stay that way on my lap the entire time you chug your bottle because there’s no way I’m going to mess around adjusting your posture and risk waking you up. Then I lay you back down in your crib when you’re done eating and you sleep soundly, most nights, until around 5 when you wake to eat again. After that, it’s back down to sleep again until 8 or 9, which makes me so very happy because I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to sleeping in with you sometimes.

Unfortunately during the day you’re not the great sleeper that you are at night. In fact, just to be honest, you’re a pretty crappy napper. For some reason you prefer catnaps, and if you happen to nap longer than an hour it’s a victory comparable to Notre Dame actually winning a football game. So basically, it rarely happens. I try not to complain too much about the nap situation, though, because if you’re going to sleep then duh, I obviously prefer you to sleep at night. Mama needs her zzz’s too, she can’t run on Coke Zero alone, you know.

All of this to say, you’re awesome. Happy three month birthday, punkin, and Happy First Thanksgiving to you, too. We’re so thankful for you.

Love, Mama

Avalon’s crafty Aunt Courtney made her this adorable onesie the other night using the outline of Avalon’s handprint. Is it not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen? Put Avalon inside of it and it’s a double whammy of CUTE. I think this turkey is even more mouthwatering and edible than the turkey that will be on the table tomorrow.

This Thanksgiving I’m obviously most thankful for the newest addition to our family, my little baby girl. Every day with her is a complete joy and I’m so happy that she’s in my life.

1. I feel gypped. Birthing a baby in early fall then trying to lose the baby weight at the same time that the holidays roll around sucks. It’s hard enough to try and maintain your weight November through January, when cookies and peppermint mochas and pumpkin pies are floating around, but LOSING weight through all of this? The undeniable failure is already driving me to the cinnamon rolls. These last five pounds are giving me the most trouble, and that flat stomach I once had has been replaced by a baby bulge that clearly reads AVALON WUZ HERE.

2. I’m really looking forward to the long weekend with Rob. We’re going to decorate for Christmas, which means buying a new tree, because the last tree we bought two years ago was cheap. And cheap trees means straggly and ugly. Since this is our first Christmas in this house I have all sorts of new decorating ideas I can’t wait to try. Garland, stockings, twinkle lights…Rob is thrilled!

3. Here’s a secret for ya. Shhh. *Avalon slept through the night last night.* I don’t want to say it too loud for fear of jinxing myself. But she did! She slept from 8pm – 7am without even a peep or squeak out of her! I’m not sure if that was a fluke or if we’re turning a new corner filled with lots and lots of hours of sleep. I’m really hoping for the latter.

4. So now that my body has healed and is back to normal I’m back on birth control. Although I hope that God blesses us with more babies in the future, I am crossing my fingers that it isn’t in the next couple of years. Problem is, well, there are two problems: 1) I am horrible at taking pills on a regular basis. I forget. I get lazy. Blah blah, needless to say popping pills is not the best, safest birth control for me AND RIGHT NOW I AM ALL ABOUT BEING SAFE, and 2) the NuvaRing, which I am on right now, is giving me migraines almost daily. This happened the last time I was on it, but for some reason I was thinking maybe it wouldn’t do that anymore. Unfortunately, all the headaches have resulted in me taking some left over Vicodin from one of Rob’s previous ailments for the past three days. I think this might be a problem, only I’m not really sure what to do about it.

5. I’m desperately trying to come up with something to say that’s not Avalon-related. But the only thing that comes to mind is something food-related. Why is it that AVALON and FOOD are the only two subjects on my mind ALL THE TIME?

6. …..

7. …..

8. This post sucks. Goodbye forever.

Avalon and I were playing in her room this afternoon and all of sudden she made this noise I had never heard, sort of a cross between the beginning of a cry and a giggle. So then I kept doing what I was doing – looking like an idiot, basically, which  makes me wonder if babies ever get annoyed by us grownups acting so stupid just to get a smile out of them, like dude, do you really need to talk in that high-pitched, annoying voice with your face two inches away from mine? Because your breath is totally rank. – and I quickly knew for sure what this new noise was. A LAUGH! So I ran downstairs and grabbed the camera hoping to get it on film so that Rob would believe me when I told him that evening that Avalon laughed. Because of course tonight when I tried to make her laugh she wouldn’t do it. But proof, I have proof!

My only warning? Well, actually there are two.

Warning number one: the visual sucks, so ignore that and just listen. And when you listen, try to ignore me because remember? I sound like an idiot.

Warning number two: this may just be the cutest thing ever. She’s so squeaky!

Pre-Avalon I decided that I was going to give cloth diapering a try, and wrote a couple posts about it here and here. However, when she was born she was such a tiny little squirt that her little butt would have gotten lost inside the cloth diapers, so I stuck with disposables for awhile. Also, just to be honest, there was a part of me that was scared slash intimidated by cloth, so I was kind of relieved that we’d be holding off at least until she got bigger. I was just already so overwhelmed with having a baby, and a fussy baby at that, and trying to figure out how to deal with cloth diapers was not on my priority list.

Now that Avalon is bigger and happier and I’m adjusting to being a mother I decided that the time had come. I spent a couple of days pre-washing the diapers so that they would reach their maximum absorbency, and when they were ready to go I did what I always do in all parenting matters: fly by the seat of my pants and hope for the best. Because isn’t that what having kids is all about? Unfortunately enough, there is no owner’s manual. It’s all about having no idea what you’re doing and making your kids your guinea pigs. So to ease into the cloth diapering, I just used one diaper a day for a couple of days. Luckily I must have had some good karma going on, because for the first two days I dealt with nothing but pee. Then, on the third day, it was bound to happen. Poop. Yucky, yucky, poo poo. Thankfully the diaper had done its job well and held all of the poop where it was supposed to be so we were sans-blow out. Not knowing how to handle the situation, I fumbled around the changing table trying not get poop on me or her and for a few moments just stood there, eyes wide open, wondering how to logistically get the dirty diaper off her and a new clean one on her. Really, it was right up there with brain surgery and/or rocket science. After two or twenty minutes Avalon was finally changed, clean, and dressed again and I had successfully dumped the poop out in the toilet, gave the diaper a swirly, and threw it in the Diaper Genie. Just call me Dr. Rocket Scientist.

Today I upped the ante and had Avalon wearing cloth diapers all day long. And I think I’m deep enough into the whole thing to safely say that I am a fan of the cloth. They’re so soft that I would have to assume they feel better on her delicate little parts, and really aren’t that much more difficult to use than a disposable diaper. Mayyyybe it takes a teensy, eensy bit more effort, but whatever. I quickly got over the effort of it all when I felt the relief that I wasn’t throwing money away with every diaper I changed. And lastly, what is cuter than a baby in an orange cloth diaper?

So one last thing to note: I haven’t yet had Avalon wear the cloth diapers to bed. That’s me being paranoid and intimidated again. But anyway, I’m sure that will come soon, and when it does I’ll update you with my latest fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants cloth diapering tip.

Last week while running some random errands I stopped in TJ Maxx to see if they had any of the beautiful glass apothecary jars that I had seen on their shelves before. I had eyeballed those jars for years, never able to commit to spending the money on them, but knowing full-well that they would look perfect somewhere in my house. Finally on that random Thursday last week I decided it was time to bring them home. Surprisingly, however, when I found them in the store they weren’t the normal large jars I had seen before, they were miniature, cuter versions of their former selves, perfect for sitting as a centerpiece on my dining room table with some seasonal candy inside of them.

Although the stores have already nose-dived into the holiday spirit with their twinkle lights, Christmas music, and red and green candy strewn all through the aisles, I wasn’t ready to give in yet. Not yet. Not until Thanksgiving has come and gone. So instead I tried to find fall-ish candy with which to fill my new pretty jars: candy corn (duh), dark chocolate Reese’s peanut butter cups (because of the color of the wrapper and, okay, BECAUSE THEY ARE AWESOME), and peanut butter and jelly M&M’s (which, although they have a fall color scheme, are absolutely disgusting. Don’t buy them. I’m warning you).

Thus is my beautiful new centerpiece. The only unfortunate part is that there is a certain someone who lives with me that keeps dipping into the M&M’s because he seems to think that they taste good. HE IS SO WRONG.

Yesterday I received an email from some random ticket retailer about upcoming U2 concerts. If you read my blog way back when (when exactly, you ask? Oh, you remember, those days when I was new to blogging and a really crappy writer. Remember? Yes, those days.), you may recall me writing a post about concerts I wanted to see sometime in my lifetime, and of course it’s obvious, SINCE I’M WRITING THIS BLOG POST, that U2 was on that very list. So I naturally was really excited to see that they were going to be performing in Chicago next year and immediately asked Rob if we should bite the monetary bullet and buy tickets.

We decided to take the plunge and spend the (lots of) money to buy some killer tickets for their concert next summer at Soldier Field. However, since we never did get around to planting that money tree in our backyard, I made Rob promise that the tickets would be our Christmas present to each other. And even though he “promised” I still have my doubts about Rob because he loves to buy gifts for people. Anyone. Hey You, want a present? Rob will buy one for you. Buying gifts is like some kind of trippy high for him, and okay, I kind of like that quality about him, like when I got home from Florida a couple of weeks ago and he had a gift waiting for me on my pillow. No matter that it was in one of those pink bags from that one lingerie store in the mall, NO MATTER, I SAID. That point is, he’s thoughtful. So I wouldn’t be surprised if, come Christmas morning, Rob has more gifts for me after we promised each other we wouldn’t do that. And then I would feel bad because I took our promise seriously and didn’t have anything to give to him Christmas morning.

Yeah, he would totally do that to me, DANG IT, HE’S TOO NICE.

It’s been quiet around the blawg lately, but that’s because in the past week our household has undergone some major transitions. And why not get back on the WordPress horse and spend my Sunday evening telling the world about them?

It started with Avalon sleeping in her crib during her nap times. She seemed to be adjusting well to being in her crib, so since she had been sleeping decently at night (in our room), I declared Friday night THE NIGHT, the first night she would sleep in her crib, upstairs, in her own room. So how did it go, right? Well, to be honest, it went okay. Just okay. Or maybe more than okay, something like Pretty Well, But Mama Was Nervous And Spent Most Of The Night Praying And Listening And Praying And Then Listening Some More. What I mean is, thank goodness for baby monitors because my ears were perked up all night long, waiting to hear any and all the squeaks and snores and screams that Avalon would make. Seriously, what did people do  before baby monitors?

Moving Avalon upstairs to her own room, then, meant putting away her Pack n’ Play from our bedroom. Suddenly I have space! So much space! And no more diapers and wipes and burp clothes all over my nightstand! I feel like I am really moving up in the world.

Speaking of moving up (that segue was awesome! And a real indicator that I NEED TO GO TO BED.), Avalon moved up a diaper size this week, AREN’T YOU LOVING THESE DETAILS I’M SHARING WITH YOU? I think she’s getting close to fitting in the cloth diapers I bought, so I’ve been doing all the pre-washing and getting ready for her to start wearing those instead of disposables.

Also major this week: weaning off of breastfeeding. For various reasons, I decided to introduce formula and have subsequently spent this weekend drying out my boobs. Along with some serious pain, I’m also experiencing a bit of a lopsidedness, seriously, I’ve got a DD and B going on right now. It’s really the weirdest look ever, and part of me wants to take a picture so that someday I can look back and laugh at what a freakshow I was, but then I realize how weird it would be to have a photo of these…things. For now I’ll just keep thinking dry thoughts and enjoy the oblique workout that is resulting from all the lopsidedness.

Bottom line, we’re already hitting milestones around here. It’s amazing to me how fast time flies and how instantly babies grow up.

And now I’m going to do us all a favor and quit typing and go to bed.

Last week, at nine weeks postpartum, I squeezed myself back into my spandex yoga pants, stuffed my sports bra with cotton breast pads, and made my way back to the gym. After over two months of absolutely zero physical activity and eating nothing but casserole after casserole, I was more than ready to get my butt kicked back into shape.

I trepidatiously started out with a kickboxing class, assuming I would keel over at least ten times in the middle of the jabs and hooks and HI-YA’s!, but to my surprise I only wanted to collapse once or twice, a fraction of what I had originally expected.

A couple days later I attempted a 45 minute spinning class, however when I looked down at my watch and saw that 43 minutes had already passed and we were still out of the saddle and climbing what I could only imagine to be a Mt. Everest-sized hill instead of cooling down, I quickly figured out that I was actually in the middle of a 60 minute class. Do you know how disappointing it is to realize that instead of only having two more minutes left to sweat, you actually have seventeen more minutes? I instantly decided I deserved an extra Kit Kat for all of my unexpected hard work.

Today I’m going to tackle a kettlebell class, and I am quite certain that I might just die. Whoever decided that throwing around heavy iron balls was a good idea must really enjoy The Torture, and probably also does things like eat live frogs for breakfast and pluck out leg hairs one by one for Friday night entertainment.

But hey, if throwing around kettlebells gets me back into my David Kahn jeans, then I’ll do what I have to do.

Goodbye forever.

Happy Halloween!