Oh, and did I mention the hand? How could that have escaped mention here?

 I don't want to jinx it, so I won't give you the details of our sleep schedule last night. All I'll say is that it was much, much better than it has been for the past two weeks. And I'm hoping for more of the same.

I was intrigued by Stephanie's mention of milk sensitivity. Someone else mentioned that too, but in relation to the acne on his face. This lady called it "milk rash". The thought of my baby being allergic or sensitive to milk makes my head spin. I hate soy formula. HATE. We are also huge fans of the dairy industry and their products in this household. I suppose I will have to research options and talk to the doctor. *Sigh*

It is the end of a rather stressful week...the first full week back to babysitting with my sleep schedule all screwed up. Interestingly, adding an infant to the mix has not been hard at all...except for the fact that I'm sleep-deprived, everything else is basically the same. I think it gets easier as the other kids get older.

Babyhood this time around is less hectic, but maybe that's because I'm taking it day-by-day and not getting overly concerned about his milestones. I couldn't wait for Olivia to (fill-in-the-blank). With Marty, I'm kind of just taking it as it comes. It's nice.

I'm also not putting nearly as much pressure on myself to get things done. So the baby thank-you notes are several weeks in the making. So we have eaten soup out of a can more than once this week. So Olivia's bathtub is so dirty that she has had a "stand-up-bath" every day for the last week. We are all still alive and relatively clean and well-fed. It is OK.

Speaking of Olivia's stand-up-bath...there's another reason that she's doing that instead of, say, showering (which would be an even easier way to avoid bathing in a dirty tub). She managed to fracture a finger and jam another one at Local Theme Park last Saturday. It is in a splint until next Tuesday, when they will put a cast on it for a couple of weeks. (Luckily, she injured her left hand, the non-dominant one, or we'd be in big trouble.)

I have a feeling that if she were, say, twenty years old, they would just tape her fingers together and tell her to keep them dry. Instead, they are giving her a full cast, likely because if they don't she will continue to use it and damage it further. Because there's no stopping this kid.

Example: Olivia does this Spiderman hanging trick off of the rope that hangs from our playset. She holds the rope and hangs upside down with her feet touching above her on the rope. Her playmate learned how to do it and was showing her the other day. Not to be outdone, she did the trick too...with one hand.

Kid is going to have a freakishly strong right hand when this whole thing is over.

That is IT! Sleep training starts TONIGHT!!

This is getting a little ridiculous. I am so tired. SO tired. I even got a nap yesterday! Still so tired.

So. Marty has decided that he must be held while awake. He will let you put him down, but only if you stay close and make faces at him. And if I put him in the carrier, he falls asleep. Thus thwarting my attempts to be all baby-wise and manipulate his schedule so that he sleeps at night. AS IF HE WILL EVER SLEEP AT NIGHT, OMG!

I know the sleep training basics. Eat, awake, sleep, repeat. OK. He has no problem with the pattern as long as he is fed every three hours on the nose, is then held for awake time, and is laid down on his tummy.* Unless he has to poop. And then he will squirm and fuss until it happens and after the fact until you clean him up because seriously...boy hates sitting in his own filth. I think I'd be with him there.

Because I have other children demanding attention here, I often have to sit him down and let him *gasp* cry it out. I am ok with that. Unfortunately, we haven't been comfortable doing this at night. He sleeps in a room next door to his sister. And we can't afford to let him wake up his sister. Sleep-deprived Olivia spells disaster for all of us.

Last night, I was at the end of my rope. The very end, friends. He fell asleep around 10 p.m. We put him down. At 12:45 a.m., he was up crying for his meal. I fed him. He produced a very full poopy diaper. I cleaned him up. His belly was full. He was clean and dry. Time to go back to bed.

Oh, no. He wasn't having that. He's not really one to "play", but he did want to look around and coo for awhile. That would be fine if he'd do it alone. But no. You, the mommy-person, must sit around and watch me stare at the ceiling fan for at least 45 minutes or I will scream my head off. Oh, yes, I will.

So yes, he did. In the bassinet, in the (air-conditioned and ventilated) closet. And then I turned the monitor down. And we all slept happily ever after until 5:45 a.m. Except for Marty. He probably screamed for 15 minutes, passed out until 3:45, woke up hungry, screamed until he was exhausted, and then repeated the cycle an indefinite number of times until I woke up on my own and checked the monitor.

And you know what? I felt really bad about it when I woke up. And then I went to pick him up and he stopped crying immediately and looked at me like, "oh, there you are. I'm good now." Stinker.

Good thing he's so darned cute.

And also, one month old today. He looks ready to take on anyone who challenges his right to dominate the household schedule. OK, buddy. Let's go.

*Yes, he now sleeps on his tummy. I think it's ok because last Saturday, he rolled himself over for the first time. Just shy of four weeks old. I put him on his tummy while I did the dishes. He screamed (of course) because I dared to put him down at all. All of a sudden, he stopped screaming. I looked over and he was there, lying on his back with a stunned look on his face, like he couldn't figure out how he ended up on his back. It was hilarious. And then I put him back on his tummy to see if he'd do it again. He did! Little guy has some strong arms!

The boss

I was going to post today about the new boss in town, who has me so sleep deprived that I feel perpetually slap-happy and on the verge of tears. He's a sweet little boss who likes to snuggle but becomes fearsome if you dare to put him down at all, ever, if he is not totally asleep.

But I don't have time to post such a thing because he just fell totally asleep. While the other kids are also napping. This should probably be investigated as a genuine miracle. But I'm too tired to research it. I'm going to go take a nap myself while the boss isn't looking.

Different

I was awakened only twice by the prince last night, which is less than normal. But at the second feeding, Marty cried and struggled over a bowel movement and delayed my getting back to bed by about half an hour. Which was unfortunate, since the babysitting kids started back today, forcing me to actually get up at a scheduled time.

But I feel OK. Strangely, somewhat well rested.

This babyhood is so different than the first. Part of it is due to the differences in personality. Part of it is due to the fact that Martin figured out the difference between day and night a lot earlier than Olivia did. Part of it is due to the fact that we have experience and know better what to expect.

But most of it, I think, is timing.

Having a new baby in July is a lot different from having a new baby in November, y'all. Way different.

The sun is out a lot. That goes a long way toward reducing anxiety. We are not trapped inside for weeks at a time. There was that awful heat wave, but even then we could tolerate some evening outdoor time. And at this time of year we are at a MUCH lower risk of baby contracting a billion types of cold and flu viruses. That helps a lot.

Marty has decided that four ounces is just not enough for his tiny tummy, so we are moving to six for some feedings, especially before bed. I'm sure that's why I was only awakened twice last night. But, friends, he's less than four weeks old! Is it normal for a not-quite-4-week-old to be taking 6 oz per feeding?

I think we may have a linebacker on our hands. An awfully cute one.

 With big eyes!

New normal starts tomorrow

Everything around here is moving at a snail's pace lately. That, of course, is life with an infant. You just get started on something and he wakes up and demands to eat. NOW.

The challenge this time around isn't really with the baby. He is so laid back, except when he wants to eat. He can sleep through noise and movement and everything. He just can't sleep through that gnawing hunger. Which is manageable.

The challenge is keeping the very excited and very excitable 4-year-old from doing bodily harm to her baby brother. Not on purpose of course. But she is just so rough! I am spending more time and energy supervising her interactions with Marty than I'm spending on actually caring for Marty.

So. School starts tomorrow. I start babysitting on Thursday. I had been dreading both of these things because they mean a schedule and getting up at an early hour (not easy when you are up at night with baby).

But after three weeks of desperately trying to explain to Olivia (unsuccessfully) that she cannot flop Martin around like one of her dolls, I am MORE THAN READY for school and other kids. School means she is productively occupied in a place other than home for three days a week. Babysitting means that she has other kids to distract her while she's home the other two days. Who cares if they are all going to destroy my well-ordered house in about 3.5 minutes? At least the baby will be left alone! I hope.

So, on with the next phase of our year. 

Behind the name

Last night was rough. Rain finally came to our drought-ridden area, but it came in a loud and flashy way. Olivia has developed a severe phobia of lightning. Also, she was terrorized in the car last night by a flesh-eating moth (actually, a normal moth, but try convincing Olivia of that), so she had residual nightmares from that. So between the storm, the nightmares and Marty's need to eat, I got about four hours of sleep in fits and starts. I am functioning on coffee and the hope that we will all get to nap today since Olivia will need one after her horrendous night of sleep. It will happen, right?

Today's topic: the baby's name.

From the beginning (like, before Olivia), we had chosen Roderick for a boy's middle name. It is Joe's grampa's name. Grampa just turned 96 and no one in the family has yet honored him with a namesake, so we decided to do it.

For the first name, we wanted a name that was traditional but uncommon. I was hoping he would have a name that was unique among his peers. The very last thing I wanted was for him to be identified by his color... as in, "Which Jacob? Oh, the black one." Plus, I like unique names. Olivia notwithstanding.

And we also thought it would be neat to name him after a black saint. After coming up with a list of names, "Martin" was Joe's favorite, after Martin de Porres. I wasn't yet sold on the name, so I researched his story.

I learned that Martin de Porres was born in Lima, Peru and was mixed race. He was a close friend of St. Rose of Lima (who is Olivia's patron saint...Olivia Rose). He is listed as the patron saint of people of mixed race and those seeking interracial harmony, among other things.

Something about the story just struck a cord with me. After a few days of testing it out in my mind, "Martin" grew on me. So, "Martin Roderick" he became. I most often call him Marty. Olivia insists "his name is MARTIN." Either way, it works.

Here is a picture of Olivia singing her brother to sleep after his bottle this morning. And now I am going to go wash bottles. And nap. If I'm lucky.

Birth story

Little Marty is 8 days old now, and his little cord stump has already fallen off. He sleeps like a little angel and it is already starting to feel "normal" to be a family of four instead of three. Olivia is such a good little helper and also terrorizes me with her attempts to pick up the baby. There are so many little observations to record. But first, the birth story:

We were on tenterhooks for weeks because birthmom was having erratic contractions and pain. But it wasn't until Sunday, July 22nd that we had some certainty about when baby would arrive. Birthmom had gone to the hospital that day, not feeling well, and they FINALLY decided that, based on her symptoms and blood pressure, she should be admitted after midnight and induced.

When she asked the staff about having us come, they said it would probably be most of the day before little guy would make his appearance and that there was really no reason for us to rush up there Sunday night. So she texted us with the information and encouraged us to get a good night's sleep and come up first thing Monday morning. We called around and confirmed our childcare plans for Olivia and re-packed our hospital bags and packed up the car. And then we went to bed.

As it always is when you are anticipating something, I didn't sleep all that well. I kept having vivid dreams about running late. I woke up at 2:00 and had a hard time falling back asleep, so when the alarm went off at 5:45, I immediately snuggled in for a few more minutes.

I finally dragged myself out of bed at 6:05 and checked my phone (which, strangely, had stopped notifying me of new text messages). I went into my text menu and saw a message from birthmom at 5:44 a.m. saying she was so sorry! But they induced and he came right away! Sorry we missed it!

After an initial wave of disappointment, I was actually kind of relieved. This improved our chances of a short stay in Big City (where baby was born) and a better chance of bringing baby home sooner. It also gave birthmom several hours alone with baby, which I think was really good for her.

So, what happened there? Well, they were going to send her home and have her return after midnight, but then her blood pressure started rising pretty quickly, so they went ahead and admitted her. Just after midnight, they applied some sort of gel for induction, and things just started moving. Once they did, he made his appearance within two hours. She didn't have any drugs or anything for pain...it was that fast.

Knowing that there was no fire (we already missed the birth, so arriving at 11 a.m. or 2 p.m. was essentially the same, except arriving later would let birthmom rest a little more and get more snuggle time), we double checked things at home and at Joe's work to make sure we could be gone a couple of days, and then we began the journey. We stopped for a brief lunch and to pick up flowers and a snack for birthmom. And it took FOREVER to get there. At least it felt like forever.

We finally arrived shortly after 2 p.m. And we met the sweetest little guy ever. 

 We visited with birthmom and cuddled baby for most of the afternoon. Birthmom is such a sweet person and it was very nice to spend time with her. I think she was confused about the whole process, thinking we'd want to take baby and be alone with him. But we were excited to share time with her and didn't want to take baby away while she could still spend time with him. I also wanted her to feel comfortable with us since we were the ones with whom she would be entrusting her baby.

Baby spent that night in the room with his birthmom, and she said he slept most of the night (encouraging!). We arrived on Tuesday morning and visited for about an hour before the counselor and attorney came to complete the paperwork and have birthmom sign the termination papers.

That part was a little nerve-wracking for me. I felt confident that birthmom intended to go through the process and place the baby. But it took a good long while, and the longer we waited in the (very small, dark and depressing) "parent room", the more I thought about how hard it would be to be in her shoes. And then Joe said something like, "maybe she's backing out" and then my thoughts started going crazy.

After about a million years, the attorney finally opened the door to the parent room and said, "Congratulations!" And then we signed our paperwork. And we were officially named "legal guardians with petition to adopt" this sweet little boy.

As long as baby had his hospital tags on, he could be left alone in birthmom's room while we went to lunch or let her have some time alone with him. The nurses had said he could likely be released early, by Tuesday afternoon, and we were waiting on the results of a test to be done at 2 p.m.

We visited with birthmom alone while they did the testing. The nurse brought baby in later and said he checked out OK and we'd be discharged in a couple of hours. Birthmom's meds were kicking in and she needed a nap, so we took baby to the parent room for awhile. Nurses came in later to take him away and complete his newborn screen and prepare him for discharge. When they brought him back, he was tagless and ready to go home!

We carried baby (sans bassinet) back to birthmom's room for good-byes. That was really, really hard. We sat while she gazed at him and her eyes started tearing up. I desperately wanted to let her have some time alone to say good-bye, but we were told by the nurses that now that he was tagless, he HAD to stay with us for liability reasons. So we just sat. And then she handed him over and started crying as we put him in the car seat. Walking out the door as she sat there alone was very, very hard.

Marty slept most of the way home and was ready to greet his sister and grandparents when we arrived at our door after 9 p.m. Olivia was goofy tired and super excited, so the first meeting was a little nerve-wracking for me. I kept thinking she'd drop him or something. But after many kisses and hugs and loving from his new family, Marty went off to sleep and Olivia did too, and our new "normal" started as a family of four.