Owen and His Schnuly

We call Owen's pacifier his "schnuly" (we aren't certain how to spell it), which is the German word for pacifier. A number of people have compared Owen's schnuly sucking to that of Maggie Simpson. I can certainly see the resemblance.

In this video you can see how much Owen really loves it: he begins to cry for no real reason, notices his fantastic schnuly, and forgets about crying. Aah, true love.

Sleeping Through the Night

A big event last night - Owen slept through the night in his own crib! Ta-da! Like magic! Dave and I celebrated this evening by putting Owen to bed in the exact same way as last night, in the hope that we can repeat the magic. (This, of course, presumes that the baby ever does something the same twice)

Even with Owen's long night of sleep, Dave was so tired that he and Owen went to bed at the same time tonight. I'm left alone to watch TV and fold laundry. Parenthood presents a glamorous life, doesn't it?

Another Gratuitous Baby Photo - Owen at 2 Months

Owen the Angel (TOP) and Owen the Pirate (BOTTOM)

Happy First Anniversary!

Dave and Owen in Oswego, NY

Last year, on the Sunday of Memorial Day, Dave and I got married in Oswego, NY. For our first anniversary, we decided to return to Oswego and spend the day- we revisited the wedding site (where another couple was preparing to tie the knot, so we walked over to the water and tried not to stare at the men in their cumberbunds smoking behind the building), walked over to Breitbeck Park where our BBQ was held, and had dinner at the same restaurant as our rehearsal dinner. Of course, we did all of this with Owen in tow, which meant that rather than joining in the frisbee game in Breitbeck Park, I sat on a bench and nursed. A very elderly couple approached, cooing, wanting to see the baby, and we had to explain that my nipple was in Owen's mouth, and perhaps now wasn't the best time to visit.

Although the traditional gift for the first anniversary is Paper, Dave and I gave each other the gift of sleep. I didn't wake him up in the night and tended to Owen all by myself, and then in the morning Dave took happy, playful Owen from the bedroom and let me sleep in solitude for three more hours. Aah... how exciting! What a great anniversary!!!

Whoever Said...

Whoever said there's no use crying over spilled milk obviously never had to pump it from their body with a breast pump. Every little drop is like liquid gold, and when I accidentally spilled it, I did weep a little as my hard work seeped into my jeans.

To Pee or Not to Pee

We're learning a great many new tricks in the Reckess household.

Dave has learned to pee and hold the baby at the same time. Amazing!

I have learned that I cannot pee and hold the baby at the same time, despite my many tries. I thought it would be easier for me than Dave, since I create a lap when I go pee. Instead, I make a mess and wind up placing Owen on the bathroom mat. I think we'll keep trying, but so far, not so good.

Owen has learned to pee on his own head, while bypassing his clothing completely. I tell you, he is the most gifted baby I have ever met.

A Smile That Means Something

We had a pretty big milestone here yesterday and today - Owen smiled in recognition of his parents! Hooray! And that smile is worth a million dollars. Yesterday morning, Dave took Owen out to the living room when Owen woke up and let me sleep for a couple of hours. Then when I walked out to the couch where my two men we're hanging out, Owen broke into a huge smile when he saw me. Dave and I laughed, and continued to laugh as Owen kept smiling for over two minutes. Then I cried.

This morning after Dave got out of the shower, Owen stopped nursing when Dave walked into the room and stared at Dave. Then he recognized Dave, and smiled big. Awwww.

To paraphrase Dave, we're toast. I don't know how I'm going to say NO to this kid now that I've seen that smile. Of course, he's only done it once to each of us. So now we're just patiently waiting for him to do it again, so we can laugh and cry all over again.

Owen and Purna (the Cat)

A Present for Owen, a Present (Box) for Purna

As a pregnant person, and now as a mother, I often am asked about the interactions between cats and babies. There are a lot of old wives tales out there - about cats "sucking the breath" out of babies, for example, and smothering them, and licking the milk out of their mouths. And a lot of people believe these tales to be true, so much so, that I spend a surprising amount of time defending my cats and insisting that I am not going to give them away.

Arlo, admittedly, has been a tad jealous of the baby, but Arlo is scared of Owen, too. There is no need to fear Arlo sucking Owen's breath away.

Purna is in love with Owen. As I write, Owen is lying on his floor mat, taking a nap. Purna is sitting two feet away from Owen, watching him sleep. She brought her toy mouse over and placed it with Owen's toys.

When Owen sleeps in the cosleeper next to our bed, Purna stretches out on the bed, preventing anyone from climbing or reaching into the cosleeper with Owen.

When Owen cries, and it takes us a little too long to get to him (or we can't calm him down), Purna comes and finds us. One time it was taking me too long for her liking, and she stood up on her hind legs and pushed on my thigh. Usually, though, she cries, too.

When Owen gets his diaper changed, Purna watches to make sure everything goes well.

It's very satisfying to have your animal become so protective of your child. So no, I am not giving my cats away in order to keep them separate from Owen. Instead I will let Purna's catnip mouse toy mingle with Owen's stuffed mushroom toy. Owen and Purna are becoming friends, and I'm glad for it.

A Fashionista Moves in to the Reckess House

Owen models a sweater from his Fall Fashion Line

Earlier last month the NY Times profiled Donatella Versace's bubblegum pink luggage, and in the profile the reporter revealed that Donatella changes her outfit at least twice a day: one outfit for the day, one outfit for night.

While that seems a bit extravagant to me, and I tend to ridicule couture culture, Owen is a big fan. He wears up to 6 outfits per day - a whole week's worth of clothing in a twenty-four hour period. Who wants to wear one set of pajamas, when you can wear four? He decides that he is done with one outfit, proceeds to poop or pee through it, and ta-da! A new outfit is forthcoming!

Dave and I have tried to cut back on Owen's fashionista habits by tightening his diaper, trying a new size, rotating him like a hotdog on a skewer, etc., all to no effect. Owen's poo and pee defies gravity (how do you wet the upper half of your body but leave the diaper completely unwet? We'll have to ask Bill Nye, the Science Guy, for his advice!). Until then, we're receiving a great workout walking the two flights of stairs to the basement washer and dryer... and most beneficial - Owen is able to wear a lot of his clothes before he grows out of them. Money well spent!

The Post-Partum Body

Today in the local newspaper, there was an article about exercise during pregnancy. I was right on board, reading along and agreeing that yes, pregnant women should get more exercise during pregnancy, and yes, recovery time after labor is probably shorter if you exercise regularly. But then one pregnant woman remarked, "I was able to start regularly exercising two weeks after delivering. My body just bounced right back."

I found this comment remarkable, seeing as how my ob/gyn practice forbids their patients from driving a car until the two week mark. I was told very explicitly that I could go on short walks at two weeks, but that's it. I wasn't even supposed to pick up anything heavier than Owen (this included my cats!) until four weeks. I can't return to anything "regular" until after I get the go-ahead - at my six week postpartum checkup. So the notion that this woman was exercising regularly at two weeks about blew my mind, and made me wonder what her ob thought.

And it's not just being given the medical go-ahead that puzzled me. It's that even if my doctor never said anything one way or the other, my body doesn't want me to be back to my regular cardio workout - and I know this because of how my body reacts to the simple act of walking up and down the stairs to our apartment. I suddenly became dizzy last week, lost my footing, and grabbed onto the handrail to keep from falling backwards. And I wasn't even carrying the baby.

I guess women should do what feels right - and if you feel that two weeks is enough recovery time, maybe it is. But I worry that people stretch their limits, showing how fast they can recover from an event that puts anything else I've ever done with my body to shame. I know that I often feel the urge to show how quickly I'm recovering, how much of my pregnancy weight I've lost, how much better I feel. But I also know that I have to listen to myself - like today, for example (which incidentally is week 5 postpartum): I went to have my teeth cleaned, and then Owen and I celebrated with a three hour nap on the couch.

A Video of Owen Doing Absolutely Nothing

It's amazing how mesmerizing babies are - for example, here we have a video of Owen doing absolutely nothing, but I've already viewed it 5 times and decided it was worthy of the blog. The reality is that babies don't have to do anything - they just have to be. And watching how Owen holds the gaze of the camera is pretty mesmerizing.

Introducing the Bottle

Owen takes a bottle

Currently Owen and I are attached at the breast - generally, if he sleeps for 5-6 hour stretches at night, it means that the following day will be devoted exclusively to feeding Owen every 45 minutes to an hour. But I also have a breast pump to help us store milk for the fall semester when I return to school and Owen stays home with Dave, and I've begun to use it.

Dave and I decided to introduce a bottle around one month of age to free me from my feeding duties, to give Dave some of the feeding responsibility, and to allow babysitters to one day come into our lives (we are definitely not ready for that yet - but that's another post). We had 1.5 ounces of milk to work with, which is approximately a serving and a half for a baby. It's not a lot.

The evening we introduced the bottle, we had Dave hold it so as not to confuse Owen (Mom has a breast and a bottle? Who is this magical lady?) We had been warned: Don't be surprised if he refuses the bottle. Ha! Owen took the bottle without even a raised eyebrow (ok, Owen doesn't know how to raise his eyebrows yet, but if he did...)

Owen has proved once again that (1) he will do whatever he pleases, other newborn habits be damned, (2) he is awesome at accepting change, and (3) when he is hungry, it doesn't matter what form the milk arrives in, he will eat it.

Welcome to "Little Dude" - a Parenthood & Babyhood Chronicle

Owen eats an Organic Carrot - April 30

Little Dude.

Since Owen's birth one month ago today, we've come up with a plethora of nicknames for him: Swimmy. Monkey. Squirmy. But the nickname that best embodies Owen was coined by Jared, a 2 1/2 year old who referred to him as "Little Dude."

Somehow that name perfectly epitomizes this tiny little guy who has completely turned our world upside down and made us wonder how we could have been anything but parents. Lawyer? Teacher? Good Public Citizen? None of it is as wonderful as Parent.

Still, we have a lot to learn, a lot to figure out. And this blog will be our chronicle of all our missteps, our confusion, our excitement over becoming parents to Little Dude.