This was a busy month for us.  I feel like all I’ve been doing is chasing down the hours until bedtime hoping he’ll sleep at least until midnight and then again until 5:30.  Sometimes we’re lucky.  Sometimes I’m up with him every other hour.  Seth continues to be useless with him at night.  Useless.  Am I completely and totally resentful?  You could say that’s a yes.  Is it his fault? No.  Some days are shit shows, other days are great.  It’s like I have a real human baby, not a robot baby like I ordered.

What’s new with Moe… Let’s see.  He babbles like crazy and we’re pretty sure he says hiiiiiiii.  He says it at the right moment, and it sounds like the right word, so, I’m calling it.  Hi is his first word.  He also seems to say Yiya for Lula, he’s always looking for her and continues to think she’s hilarious.  We were at Cross Creek in Malibu today and he saw some other dogs there, he loves dogs.  A French bulldog was chasing a tennis ball and Moses was obsessed with him.  And some kind of poodle thing with short legs.  It was nerve wracking (stranger’s dogs freak me out around my baybay) and pretty cute.

He’s still slow with the eating, but he didn’t gain much weight according to his last appointment (5 ozs instead of the usual 1.5 or 2 pounds…) so we’re spending more time trying to get calories into him. I’m torn between the “he’s not hungry or interested, stop making it a battle” and the “he is going to be a malnourished skeleton baby” camps.  I don’t know.  I’m constantly thinking about it, but tonight he tried and liked spanakopita, so maybe it’s just that he isn’t into bland baby food anymore?

He is standing on his own.  Not for very long (count of 2 maybe?) and he still needs something just off the floor to push off of to get to a stand, but he is close to floor standing.  Perilously close.

He had a visit from his auntie and he was sick during the visit so that was  bit of a drag as he wasn’t his most charming self, but I think he enjoyed having his mom’s dopelganger around.  I know I did.

He had is first swim in a pool and first hotel stay (um, The Beverly Hills Hotel, poor kid has no idea it’s all downhill from here…) and the pool was a hit.

He liked the hotel too, but we just got a regular room, so at his bedtime we were kind of just sitting in the dark whispering to each other and that kind of sucked. Lesson learned.

I went back to work and Seth is home for him for the time being and it’s working out well.  I miss him during the day, but I love being around people who don’t need me to change their diaper while they scream at me and try to throw themselves off the table, so that’s nice.

Our waiter told us Moses is one of the most beautiful babies he’s ever seen.  We couldn’t agree more…

Before the house went on the market it had a cash offer from a couple who wanted to restore the home and not tear it down.  We didn’t believe them, but Seth and his sister countered and they accepted the offer.  It was shown 4 more times and got two more offers.  The same day.  The real estate market in Beverly Hills is intense.  The couple officially has possession of the home now.  I hope they like it.  I know my in laws were very proud of it.  I cried yesterday when I said goodbye to it.

Seth has spent the last month getting art to auction houses - some of which are overseas - consigning art to galleries, and splitting up art with his sister.  The house was basically wall to wall art.  His father was a collector.  We still have more art to deal with.  I am fucking sick of art.

There was also the matter of valuable antique furniture.  Most of which is at auction now, some of the less valuable pieces were sold elsewhere.  I insisted we take the not-valuable wing back chairs.  And now our house is filled with tables.  We have a table infestation.

The amount of stress selling a house and dividing its contents with a family member brings is incredible.  When we cleaned my mother’s apartment out we did it so quickly and it was so small that it was like ripping off a little bandaid, this was like surgically adding a bandaid and then cutting it off your skin tiny piece by tiny piece. I have no idea how Seth is not snapping my head off with stress anger every minute but there were definitely mini-fights brought on by cleaning out the house stress.  It’s a good way to test a marriage.

The amount of relief I have that I don’t have to talk about where to put a table or if I want a lamp or another duck or this thing or that book or this cup is incredible.  For the record, in addition to a table infestation, we are also lousy with ducks.  I think I just lost another eyelash.

We are spending the weekend in a fancy hotel, because we need to have room service and pool side service and I need a massage.  Seth probably needs one to, but he hates them, so I’m getting his.

This month brought serious all out crawling.

And pulling up.

And the beginnings of tantrums.  Oh my.

He loves to eat, but only when he has something of his own he can hold and control - an apple slice, a slice of bread, a piece of melon, a spoon.

Then you can feed him and feed him until all of a sudden he just throws everything away and is done.

He is very interested in how things move.  Last night he spent an hour sliding his wiffle ball bat around the room.  It was so weird and fascinating to watch his little brain work out how the bat could be in his hand and at the same time hitting the wall.

He’s a social butterfly when he’s out.  We went jogging for the first time with him yesterday and seeing the other runners coming our direction break into smiles was hilarious, because clearly he was flirting with anyone and everyone who would look his way.

He gets pretty fussy these days when boredom strikes.  And we probably are reinforcing this terrible behavior by picking him up and redirecting him.  I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to behavior modification of a baby.  Because, case in point, he laughs his ass off when I say, “No!” firmly and sternly after he bites me.  Laughs.  In my face.  After biting.  Or when I say, “ouch!”  Is my baby a sociopath?  Don’t tell me if he is.

Sleeping has been hit and miss.  (Is it teething?  A wonder week? A general dislike for us as parents?) And it’s making me very resentful of Seth.  One night I told him to go in and 20 minutes later, the baby was in bed with us.  I got up in a huff, took him BACK into his room and he was asleep in seconds.  Seth told me the next morning he was worried I had killed the baby.  I replied, “The only person in danger last night, was you.”

All of this is minor stuff that is made more major by the stress and upheaval going on in our lives with the in-laws house and family stuff.  Moe has developed a bit of separation anxiety with me, it only rears its head occasionally, which makes my upcoming work situation seem a little worrisome.  Hopefully in a month he’ll have eased up and going back will be fine.

I love the little bugger.  And can’t wait to see what this next month brings.

2. I forgot to refill my thyroid medication early this week and because I am currently failing at scheduling adult errands I kept missing the window of time my highly inconvenient pharmacy was open even though I was in the neighborhood at my mother in law’s house EVERY.  DAMNED. DAY.  On the fourth day without medication, I started to feel hot and sweaty and a little dizzy and crazy (see above) and it just didn’t make sense.  I’m on meds because my thyroid under performs, meaning my TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) is very slightly high.  That always confuses me, high TSH means low thyroid. Anyway, if I was off meds, I figured I would feel sluggish, anxious and have cold feet (symptoms of under performing thyroid) instead it felt like I was on a double Adderall dose. I finally got my meds and took them and have felt fine ever since.  But still, that should be the opposite.  I think?  I don’t know.  Whatever this is all very fascinating to you, I’m sure.  I felt hot and crazy.  Good story, Tamara!

3. I quit Weight Watchers and started using My Fitness Pal (FREE!).  It syncs with my FitBit (not free!) and so I know how much my walking is affecting how many calories I should be eating.  Which is all very much how I like things, streamlined and orderly.  Also, my sister is on it and now I get to see what she eats every day.  I very much enjoy seeing what people eat all day.  I think we’re told that no one cares what you had for lunch by a mighty bossy person, but I care.  I care deeply.  Are you on the app?  Let’s be friends!

4. Lately Moses gets a mix of bottles and breast milk and sometimes when I’m not fast enough he’ll take matters into his own hands and start nursing my stomach or my elbow or he’ll take the bottle and shove the bottom in his mouth.  It reminds me of the McSweeney’s piece that if you haven’t read, you should (also where have you been?), and I think to myself, “Should I feed him? And if so, where do I put the food? His eyeball? His butt?” And then I think in Moses voice, “This lady sure could use some more nipples, like a golden retriever,” and then I feel like a golden retriever with saggy sad nipples of breastfeeding shame and then I laugh again because of that McSweeney’s piece.

5. I would like to be done breastfeeding now.  But I would also like someone else to do the weaning.

6. Our landlords/upstairs neighbors asked us to do Easter bunny duty for them which included getting Easter baskets out of our garage where they had stashed them, putting them on their front stoop and ringing the doorbell.  I did it begrudgingly because I am a curmudgeon and was really irritated that I was being so put out, but then I heard the adult children laughing and yelling and being all happy that the Easter bunny still remembered them and fuck, I’m not made of stone people.  God.

7. Now that Moses can pull himself up to a standing position when he wakes up in the middle of the night he gets up.  And then he doesn’t sit back down.  I think he doesn’t know how?  And so our easy wake ups that lasted 2 seconds before where he would cry, roll over and fall back to sleep have turned into a full wake up that he has brought upon himself in his need to stand up.  And the sleep sack is not helping.  He still stands up.  And I’m very tired.

8. Apropos of #7 - “First of all, should he be sleeping, ever? If so, should it be at night? Should I keep him in a bassinet or crib or should I let him just sleep in the yard, or the toaster?” from the aforementioned McSweeney’s piece.

My parenting/scheduling skills are reaching a point where I feel like I need someone else to plan my day for me.  We’re getting Seth’s mom’s house ready to sell and a 4000 square foot house that someone lived in for 40 years, uh, has a lot of stuff.  So, there’s always this schedule fuck up where I haven’t eaten and the baby hasn’t napped and there is screaming in the car (his, sometimes mine), and I feel like a bad mom, but what are you going to do?  The house isn’t going to empty itself.  Also, there is no money to hire people to empty it, which is what my inclination would be.  SO.  MUCH. STUFF.  And a lot of it is migrating here and it’s making me want to get rid of everything.  EVERY. LAST. THING.  So no one will have to say, “Why did she save this?  This is so crazy.”  Having now been the cleaner outer of my grandparents’ house, my mom’s apartment and now my in-laws house, I’m, um, how do I say this delicately, not allowing anyone else to die.  Ever.  Sorry planet, you’ll have to absorb all the old people who won’t be dying now.  Because if I have to empty one more junk drawer full of tape that is older than me, I might just politely ask North Korea to gently bomb us to oblivion.  Stop buying tape and losing it, Old People.  It is making me fucking crazy.

I had other things to say but now I’m on a full rant about old people.  What is with all of the scarves?  Why do I feel compelled to keep them?  I hate scarves.   That’s not true,  I have one scarf of my mother’s that I love, but I don’t wear it.  It’s just in my drawer so that when I open it and shove all of my bras that don’t fit me around I can see it and think to myself, I wish I wore scarves.  Now I have a million (slight exaggeration) more scarves and one day my kid is going to go through my drawer with my old bras and be all irritated and say, “She NEVER wore scarves, what is with all the scarves?”

And can we talk about dishes?  Because I have a set of dishes, and now I’m getting another FULL set of dishes and it seems like too many dishes.  Why do we need formal dishes and regular dishes?  WHY?  Why so many fucking dishes?  I don’t throw that many dinner parties (none, I throw none dinner parties) but if I did would I need a whole other set of dishes for my fancy dinner party friends?  I’m taking the dishes because I don’t know why.  I guess me and my millions of dishes will be happy on the next episode of Hoarders, Dishes and Scarves and Random Pots and Pans edition.

Finally, can we come to an agreement about photos of people we don’t know.  We can throw those away, right?  RIGHT?  Because if Seth doesn’t know them, and his sister doesn’t know them, sure as fuck I don’t know them, so they are getting thrown away.  (This is hypothetical, everyone knows everyone in the photos so far.  I’m hoping at some point, there will be something we can throw away besides tape.  Rolls and rolls of tape.)

This is Friday night.  I have to go do my homework and take an Ativan.

It’s been a big month around here.

Moe got two new teeth.  They came in without a fuss.

We’ve successfully been able to get him to eat a few purees and he’s interested in solids, but mostly gagging and barfing when he tries them, so I’m not so interested in solids.

He is able to push himself into a seated position.  So while there is still no actual crawling, he is mobile enough to be dangerous.

Sleeping is going pretty well.  He had his first cold a week ago today, but it lasted 2 days and he was back to normal.   At least until today, and I have no idea how he knows it’s DST, but he refused all naps today, so he went to bed at 7:15 (which is really 6:15 to him) and after wailing for about 2 minutes, is out.  I’m not sure it will last.

He loves to laugh.  He loves being upside down.  He loves peek-a-boo.  He loves long walks (on the beach, at sunset…).  He loves the park.  He loves Cat Power and Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg.  He loves getting up early and getting a jump on the day.  He loves grabbing Lula’s tail.

He’s not so into being left by himself.  He doesn’t like being fed if no one is doing the entertainment simultaneously.  He does not like getting his favorite toys taken away from him (my book light, my iPhone, the wipes, the Desitin…).

We just can’t get enough of him.

She was a tough woman who rarely showed her softer side, but with Moses she lit up and melted.  I’m sad that she’s not going to see him grow up, and I’m sad that Moe doesn’t have any grandmas and that Seth doesn’t have any parents and that everyone dies eventually.

Death is unfair even when it lets you know it’s coming.

Goodbye, Gita.  We’ll lock the gate.

I haven’t been able to look at them because, 1. I have a very fainty relationship with gore and descriptions of gore, and 2. I have always heard about doctors taking guts out and laying them on your stomach to get the baby and wasn’t sure if that was the case here or an urban legend and the thought of seeing my intestines on the outside, well, see #1.

But, I finally looked at them.

And they are incredible.  The first image of my baby.  You can’t see his face because my doctor’s hand looks like she’s suctioning him, but you can see the other surgeon clamping the cord.  And his little hand is reaching up.

I’m just in awe of my doctors, my broke-down body and my little baby boy.  I’m glad I finally looked.

(The below image is cropped, because you guys probably don’t want to see my guts on the outside.  JK, they weren’t on the outside, but my open wound is very visible, so I cropped it.)

What can I say about this little kid?  He’s the best.  He’s a star.  He lights up the room wherever he goes.  He stares people down with the full brilliance of his smile until even the most hardened man in a business suit crumbles to his dimples.  He’s like the baby version of Ryan Gosling.  BUT BETTER.

He is still not so crazy about purees.  Basically you have to trick him into smiling and then sneak the spoon in, which feels like a total betrayal.  So, I’ve sort of just stopped.  I am reading about Baby Led Weaning right now, and I’m thinking we’ll give it a try.  I’m not super concerned about it.  I just want to be able to bring Moe to restaurants without a lot of fuss, because we eat out A LOT.

He has started babbling and it’s so adorable and loud.  “A da da da!” “Ba ba ba!”  The only time he says, “MAAAAA” is when he’s crying before I come home from work, according to Seth.  Way to dig the knife in deeper kid.

He hasn’t started crawling yet, but there is a lot of hands and knees rocking which for some reason I find so completely adorable.  I just want to bottle his positive energy and keep it with me for all time.

He finally “grew out” of his bouncer/chair.  He is too strong to be safely left in the chair, but not smart enough to know that if he leans over to the side he will bonk his head on the floor.  So, we have sadly retired it.  It got us through a lot of days, and while I like the Stokke high chair we got, it’s just not so easy to leave him in there without a lot of fussing after he ejects all of his toys onto the floor.

He has always been tough to change, but now he’s so fast that we have almost given up the changing table entirely for the bed.  Except in cases of… well, there are wet diapers and there are DIRTY diapers and yeah, you get the point.

He loves playing musical instruments.

He loves Lula.  He loves books.  He loves pulling my hair. And he loves babies.  I have two more weeks of work (I keep getting extended) and then I’ll be able to seek out some activities that involve other babies.  I think he would really benefit from some baby interaction, frankly, he’s probably sick to death of us old folk.

We love him the moon, the stars, the universe.

So, because I wanted to have an idea of my starting point, I took my measurements and some “before” photos that are for my eyes only.  I took them on my iPhone and because I often whip out my phone to show people my darling son (the modern version of, “Here, look at my vacation slide show.”) I wanted to get them off my phone and into a place where people won’t immediately see them (and recoil in horror at my cellulited ass).  My phone does not currently sync with my computer, so I decided to e-mail them to myself.  I VERY carefully entered my e-mail address as I was mailing them to myself and hit send after checking and re-checking to see if I had entered the proper address.  As soon as the final picture whooshed out of my inbox an e-mail came in from my father.  Subject line: These came through.  Body of message: “I will check them out in the morning.  I’m hitting the rack.”

I think you can probably imagine the feeling I had.  That feeling of all of your blood draining from the top half of your body into the bottom half.

I immediately went into a flop sweat and checked my sent mail.  It appeared I had only sent the photos to myself, but what if I SENT THEM TO MY ENTIRE CONTACTS LIST?  What if there was some terrible glitch?  I felt like I might actually die.

I frantically dialed my father and the phone rang and rang.

“Please don’t be in bed, PLEASE DON’T BE IN BED.”

He finally picked up.

“Dad, um, what was that e-mail about?”

“What e-mail?”

“The one that said, ‘These came through.’”

LONG TERRIBLE PAUSE.

“WHAT CAME THROUGH, DAD?”

“Oh, that went to you?  It was supposed to go to your sister, she sent me some real estate listings.”

Jesus.  Fucking. Christ. ON A CRACKER.

I explained the story to him and he had a good laugh.  Then I forwarded the e-mail he sent to my sister and told her what had happened.

She responded:  You would have totally had a rom-com night tonight breaking into everyone’s houses and deleting their emails before they had a chance to see your underwear. There - now you have a script to start writing!

Moral to the story:  Never, ever, take before photos.  EVER.