Jack had his two month check-up today. This is the first visit in a long line of vaccinations in which you bring your happy, unsuspecting baby to the doctor, only to have him look at you in disbelief, shock and horror when the nurse actually sticks him with the needle. Jack took it like a trooper, I think it hurt me more than it hurt him (I am a big baby, I know – now I am remembering why it was Bernie who took Nick for most of his shots). The stats: at nine weeks, Jack weighs 14lbs. 3oz, he is 23 ½ inches long and his head circumference is 41cm. He is above average in length and way above average in weight and head circumference. Dr. Sullivan still thinks Jack is one of the noisiest babies he’s ever seen!
The fact that Jack is growing so well is a relief. When I was pregnant, without having ever done it before, I resolved that he would be breastfed exclusively. It seemed like such a natural thing, how hard could it be? Like many other things in my life that I have passionately declared, I was completely wrong about this. He wouldn’t latch on, he wasn’t gaining weight, he was getting jaundiced. I spent hours with a lactation consultant and still we could only get him to latch on with a shield and even then he wouldn’t stay on very long. We weren’t home long from the hospital before we started supplementing with formula. Now, Jack is fed mostly pumped breast milk, which makes the process very long – 20 minutes to pump, 20 minutes to feed, repeating this cycle every two to three hours. We don’t supplement very often, except that lately I have been trying to give him one formula bottle per day so that I can build up the breast milk supply for when I go back to work. Jack is not a big fan of the formula. He’ll drink it if he is hungry but will let you know he isn’t happy about it.
The dog has been very interesting with Jack from day one. She is extremely protective of him. If he is crying in the other room, Jenny will come get me and literally lead me to Jack to make sure I know he needs me. If Nick is playing with Jack, Jenny will try and get in between them, worried that Nick is going to somehow hurt him (of course, Nick is totally fine with him). Jenny is not supposed to touch the baby, but if he is on the floor in his activity gym and I turn my head for a second, she will lick him on his head and face. At the same time, Jenny is jealous of the baby. She tries to eat his toys, she has destroyed countless breast shields, pacifiers and bottles. Jack’s first words might very well be “leave it,” “no Jenny,” or “get in your crate NOW.”Jenny isn’t getting the attention she needs mostly because it has been too cold to take the baby outside to walk the dog. For those of you who don’t know Jenny, she, as most Airedales are, is notorious for counter surfing. If anything is left on the counter, English muffins, apple pies, M&Ms, etc. she will eat them the minute we leave the house, sometimes before we’ve even left the driveway.
I got home from taking Jack to the doctor, and Jenny had been counter surfing again. Only this time, it was a can of powdered baby formula. Not a little can, a HUGE can, which had only been opened for a few days. The white powder was all over my kitchen floor where she had clearly opened the can. Then she proceeded to drag the can to the big couch, and for some reason, she even had some on the loveseat. It was all over her face, and her water dish looked like I had poured a few of Jack’s bottles into it. There was white powder everywhere. I would’ve taken a picture for you, except Bernie brought the camera to work with him. The minute we walked in the door, Jenny made a bee-line for her crate, knowing she was in BIG trouble; and Jack woke up needing to be fed.
I was sitting in the rocking chair, feeding Jack, in the middle of my living room that looked like it was the victim of a dry snow storm, and contemplating the fate of my dog. Then I realized that I am lucky to have such problems. In this economy, where people are losing their homes and jobs every day, I am blessed in so many ways. In order to have this problem meant that: 1. I have a house; 2. I have couches; 3. I have a baby; 4. I can afford to buy formula for my baby; and 5. I have a dog. Having a dog may not seem like a blessing in this situation, but at the end of the day she brings us much more joy than aggravation.
When I changed my perspective, cleaning up the mess seemed more like a good thing and less like a burden. I am not sure the couches will ever be the same, and the dog is still in her crate, but if she keeps whining and looking at me with those big puppy dog eyes, I just might let her out.
The fact that Jack is growing so well is a relief. When I was pregnant, without having ever done it before, I resolved that he would be breastfed exclusively. It seemed like such a natural thing, how hard could it be? Like many other things in my life that I have passionately declared, I was completely wrong about this. He wouldn’t latch on, he wasn’t gaining weight, he was getting jaundiced. I spent hours with a lactation consultant and still we could only get him to latch on with a shield and even then he wouldn’t stay on very long. We weren’t home long from the hospital before we started supplementing with formula. Now, Jack is fed mostly pumped breast milk, which makes the process very long – 20 minutes to pump, 20 minutes to feed, repeating this cycle every two to three hours. We don’t supplement very often, except that lately I have been trying to give him one formula bottle per day so that I can build up the breast milk supply for when I go back to work. Jack is not a big fan of the formula. He’ll drink it if he is hungry but will let you know he isn’t happy about it.
The dog has been very interesting with Jack from day one. She is extremely protective of him. If he is crying in the other room, Jenny will come get me and literally lead me to Jack to make sure I know he needs me. If Nick is playing with Jack, Jenny will try and get in between them, worried that Nick is going to somehow hurt him (of course, Nick is totally fine with him). Jenny is not supposed to touch the baby, but if he is on the floor in his activity gym and I turn my head for a second, she will lick him on his head and face. At the same time, Jenny is jealous of the baby. She tries to eat his toys, she has destroyed countless breast shields, pacifiers and bottles. Jack’s first words might very well be “leave it,” “no Jenny,” or “get in your crate NOW.”Jenny isn’t getting the attention she needs mostly because it has been too cold to take the baby outside to walk the dog. For those of you who don’t know Jenny, she, as most Airedales are, is notorious for counter surfing. If anything is left on the counter, English muffins, apple pies, M&Ms, etc. she will eat them the minute we leave the house, sometimes before we’ve even left the driveway.
I got home from taking Jack to the doctor, and Jenny had been counter surfing again. Only this time, it was a can of powdered baby formula. Not a little can, a HUGE can, which had only been opened for a few days. The white powder was all over my kitchen floor where she had clearly opened the can. Then she proceeded to drag the can to the big couch, and for some reason, she even had some on the loveseat. It was all over her face, and her water dish looked like I had poured a few of Jack’s bottles into it. There was white powder everywhere. I would’ve taken a picture for you, except Bernie brought the camera to work with him. The minute we walked in the door, Jenny made a bee-line for her crate, knowing she was in BIG trouble; and Jack woke up needing to be fed.
I was sitting in the rocking chair, feeding Jack, in the middle of my living room that looked like it was the victim of a dry snow storm, and contemplating the fate of my dog. Then I realized that I am lucky to have such problems. In this economy, where people are losing their homes and jobs every day, I am blessed in so many ways. In order to have this problem meant that: 1. I have a house; 2. I have couches; 3. I have a baby; 4. I can afford to buy formula for my baby; and 5. I have a dog. Having a dog may not seem like a blessing in this situation, but at the end of the day she brings us much more joy than aggravation.
When I changed my perspective, cleaning up the mess seemed more like a good thing and less like a burden. I am not sure the couches will ever be the same, and the dog is still in her crate, but if she keeps whining and looking at me with those big puppy dog eyes, I just might let her out.
