I swear it--I am alive...and even well, on the great majority of days.  Since I seriously stink at journaling AND some of my peeps aren't Facebook followers, I'm going to try to do some blogging.  It would be sad to not have any record of the rapid changes through which our Chubbity Chubb Chubbs is going. 

Like the change to his daily eating schedules.  We had been trolling along, pretty pleased with our every 3.5-4 hour bottle feeding with a little bit of rice cereal thrown in between. We could run errands or eat a little dinner out every once in awhile if we wanted to... but now that the Weasel has taken a liking to this new solid food stuff, the whole feeding landscape just got a bit more complicated.  Apparently, instead of just adding some solids into his typically "meal" times, we should be spreading it out throughout the day. 

After doing some research, it seems as though the feeding frequency of a 6 month old Weasel is completely ridiculous.  Between solids and a bottle, the kid is basically eating every 1.5-2 hours, with the exception of a nice long stint in the afternoon for a nap.  Holy moly.  Our freewheeling days are OVER.   I put this new little feeding plan into place on Sunday while I was out and about.  The sheer amount of feeding equipment and time that it takes to set up, deliver and clean up really made that run to Trader Joe's not worth it.  Instead of just giving in, maybe I should make it like training for an athletic event--successfully getting through each subsequent meal out will shore up my patience level just like each run builds my endurance.  That'll work, right?

Were we really childless six weeks ago?  How is that even possible?  I'm watching the Baby Weasel as I type and am thinking (I don't know if we'll ever just call him Caden--the closest we get is "Caden Weasel."  Poor kid.) about how life has changed.  The last six weeks have been extremely challenging, but then he snuggles in to my chest to sleep or does something really funny like pee in the tub every single time we bathe him, and I'm amazed at how much joy he brings.  Babies are smart that way. :)

Grandma G. was here this past week, and the big accomplishment of the week (besides actually scrubbing our bathrooms for the first time in six weeks) was her helping us to settle into a bedtime routine.  It was like SuperNanny on steroids. She almost called social services on us when she found out we were only bathing the Weasel every few days, that we sometimes had him wear the same pajamas twice, and that he wasn't always swaddled during the day. 

So began the schedule.   Each day, Grandma G. would:

-Do a ninja swaddle in 2.5 seconds flat after every feeding except the last one.

-Pronounce it "bath time" around 9:00 p.m. (which, shockingly, the Weasel really loves--we put a warm washcloth over his little baby belly, and he goes all limp noodle and stares at himself in the mirror).

-Put him in a pair of clean jammies.

-Hold him sideways in her arms facing towards her and pat his behind to make him fall asleep.

And be damned if it didn't work like a charm every time.  The whole week she was here, he went 6-7 hours between his night feedings.  We're down to one feeding around 4:00 or 5:00 am. 

That'll teach me to doubt a Grandma who had four kids, worked full time, kept an immaculate house and baked her own bread to boot.  Here's to hoping it sticks!

 

 

 

First, we use him to practice swaddling. Now, he's become our car seat guinea pig. Poor Itasca D. Bear.

I should probably take him out before we have the fire department check that the seat is installed properly, huh?