Holy insane infant public breakdown, Batman.

Oh, Suzianne.

You were not feeling today’s “let’s meet daddy for lunch” adventure at Ted’s Montana Grille. This was not a fun Team Newman moment:

Only after 10 minutes of public wailing and daddy rocking, did you calm down enough for me to get you to the train, where you promptly passed out:

And you’re still asleep in that stroller, here in the living room, where I’m scarfing down my Ted’s burger and cold fries in front of a famished tea cup poodle:

But! Thanks to you, we’ve discovered a very effective way to make our server promptly deliver our check and to-go boxes: just make your baby scream bloody murder while business folks are trying to eat! Yay! …so we’ve got that going for us, which is nice.


Oh, well. We tried.

Waking up happy

One of my favorite things about Dave is that, most days, he wakes up happy and silly. Even before he’s had coffee.

I’m delighted to report his doppelgänger carries the same trait:


Week 12: Llama Llama Mad at Momma

Week 12! It was a doozy! And awesome. Here are three new experiences I just have to share:

1. Suzianne slept through the night every night for seven days, with progressively earlier bedtimes each evening. O M G. {Squeal!} Regardless of the time we put her down, (which ranged from 7–10 p.m.) she would not wake for 7 hours. IT WAS AWESOME. And scary. Is she breathing? Yes, Margie, she’s breathing. Good thing you kept poking at her so you could wake her up to prove she’s alive while she’s sleeping. Brilliant. 

2. Holy cow, our girl has a temper! And it only seems to rear its inconsolable red head when I’m around. Because I smell like breakfast all day long. I’m like a walking Sonic– with birthing hips.

This week, we had several major scream-fests, where I was just sure someone would call Child Protective Services on me. I mean, these screams were violent, never-ending torture screams. If you were in the next room–or parking space– you’d swear I was chopping off Suzianne’s pinky toe. But no, she’s just hungry.

It does’t matter that she just ate 1.5 hours ago–or that you are trying to find a parking spot at Tyson’s Corner and can’t really do anything about it right now–she’s STARVING MOMMA WAAAAAAAAAAAAH! 

And she must tell everyone within a 5-mile radius that her momma NEVER feeds her. But her daddy? Oh, he’s cool, ya’ll. You can trust him. Just don’t turn your back on that milk lady.

A quick Google (thanks Dave) told us this is a 3-month growth spurt. But since Suzianne is sleeping through the night now: scream, child! Momma don’t care because she will feed you AND get some sleep all in the same day. Bring. It.

3. Team Newman has found a routine! Sorta. We don’t stick to a hard and fast timeline, but we do have a routine of feedings, playtime, naps; repeat. We’ve also gone from primarily breast feeding to expressed breast milk from the bottle feeding. When we did this, Suzianne started sleeping through the night. I have no clue if it is her age or the bottle-feeding that is making the difference, but it seems to be a better solution for her. We are having to supplement with formula. This makes me sad, but Suzianne wakes up beaming with glee and ready for the world these days…so we’re gonna stick with this plan:

In other awesome news, Suzianne met my best friend in the whole wide world this week. A woman whose friendship means more to me than she will ever know. We love you, Pavis:

And finally, I got back to my 5k training this week! I am re-doing “Week 2,” since I’ve not run in three weeks. I am feeling good, thanks to the fabulous stretching techniques Michelle and Rebecca sent me. Thanks, ladies! Hopefully, I can stay on track this time.

On Sleeping Well

For 10 weeks, Suzianne never slept more than four consecutive hours. Around week 9, she was only sleeping in 1.5 hour stretches.

I prayed, chanted and danced in circles hoping that by some miracle, she’ll learn to sleep at night.

Suddenly, week 11 arrives and she’s sleeping for 6 and 7 hours at a time. As I type this, she’s been asleep 3.5 hours since her last feeding, which was preceded by 7.5 hours of sleep!

And how do I repay her for this amazing, body, mind and soul-rejuvinating rest she’s gifted me? I sneak into her room every few hours to make sure she’s alive.

She is alive, by the way.

I know because I hover over her tiny, swaddled up body trying to peep out some chest movement.

When I don’t see breathing, I poke her.


It’s so funny to me how now matter what she’s doing–sleeping, not sleeping; pooping, not pooping–I’m questioning my parenting skills.

Why can’t I just let it be?! 

I AM a good mother, dangit!  

I am also a moron for nearly waking Suzianne up to prove she’s alive while she’s asleep. Geez o Pete.

BUT! I’m now a well-rested moron, so I’ve go that going for me, which is nice.