Making a case for the outdoors.

What do a black leather recliner, a maroon Ligne Roset couch, a brown leather sofa, 2 piles of laundry, a Tumi garmet bag, a brown leather ottoman, a Nordstroms shopping bag filled with my mother-in-law's new shirts and a pile of pillows all have in common?!

Think hard before you answer this. It's not intuitive, unless you are familiar with the members of our household...

They have all been peed on by one of our three cats. As I sat here, moments ago, typing out an ad for a "Free", but stinky, Lignet Roset couch on Craigslist, I was struck by the vast financial burden that these critters have been upon us. Between the professional cleanings, professional cleansers and total losses, we could have probably paid to board them for the last 4 years of their lives and still been ahead. At least they are equal opportunity pissers, though. Both of our premarital assets have been equally targeted by the beasts.

So here is the problem: 2 of the 3 cats are frontally declawed. For that reason, we have put up with their shenanigans for this long now and kept them as indoor cats. My vote is now in favor of letting them learn to fend for themselves and send them out into the great outdoors. But an argument can be made, and has been, that this endangers their little lives because they are claw-dicapped. Others say that it doesn't matter, it's the rear claws they fight with. Another argument in favor of their continued entrapment is that we live on a busy corner and cars are unknown enemies to them. To that, I can only point you to Darwinian theory.

My question to you is, what is the fair thing to do with the beasts? Do they go out? Stay in? What would you do?

Random Farm Visit Pics

Here are some pix from Bubbie's camera taken during our recent visit:

Nearly Neked

We spent the last week on the farm in Tennessee, and somehow managed to forget to take photos of all the farmy stuff. But we did get some cute bedtime photos of Zach and Miss Vivian.

In her better moments...

I may have neglected to mention that Vivian is not all howls and barf.

She sleeps peacefully in her car seat:

She smiles for us:

And she plays with her bro:

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Rock Star!

My lullaby for Zach was "Baby Mine". I use past-tense because somewhere along the way (actually, I can pinpoint when -- a flight to CA when I was trying to distract him) it became a rock song. Properly done in Weiss family fashion, you sing the whole line very sweetly, til the last couple words... then you ROCK out and use heavy distortion!

Jesse bought Zach his first guitar this weekend, which he adores, and uses to sing his favorite rock lullaby. He also uses it to perform his rendition of "New Slang" and many a Cat Stevens song, but I haven't caught those on camera yet...

Check out the rock star in training.

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My heart burns... and so does hers.

Our poor Vivian continues to be a barfy, poor sleeping mess. Last Monday, we took her into Dr. Brown suspecting acid reflux, and our suspicions were confirmed. Relieved to have an explanation, we put her on meds and starting letting her sleep upright. She slept great 4 nights out of 6, but I don't even want to recount the events of the remaining 2. Days are also sporadicaly good -- we had 2 days where she went the WHOLE day without napping more than 10 minutes. Let me tell you, that's a lot of jostling, walking and driving for us parents.

Today we took her back to Dr. Brown to start her up on a second medication, since the first is clearly inadequate. We also discovered she hasn't gained any weight in the last 2 weeks. Not for lack of supply, I can assure you, but something about nursing makes her pull away in tears nearly every time she eats. Could it be the heartburn? So now we will be dosing her four times a day with meds that she hates the taste of, and feeding her more often. Both of these things make her vomit more.

Here's hoping our girl starts feeling less burn and more fullness.

On the up side, I got her something she's always wanted at a Kid Genius close-out sale -- a super girly, crazy pink Room Seven diaper bag! I justify the purchase by suspending disbelief and pretending she will use it as an overnight bag someday.

Oh yes I did!

C'mon -- doesn't everyone wonder what their child would look like as the opposite sex?!

Genetic Bingo

Here is a link to the photos of Jesse and I as babies. We played this game with Zach -- who does the baby look like?!

Click here!

Volunteer time

Right after the September 11th attacks several years ago, I had to fly. Security was crazy tight, as you probably recall, and everyone was kinda blurry about how the rules worked. Most personnel seemed to err on the conservative side of the rules in those days. So you can imagine my surprise when, while boarding a flight in DFW, the gate attendant actually said "Does anyone want to volunteer for a random security check?"

Quite possibly one on the funniest moments of irony in my life, I had to volunteer.

Not-so-funny moment of irony No. 2 occurred this morning. The not-so-funny part is that I dropped Vivian, in her carseat, yesterday. Tight parking space, couldn't get the door open all the way, lost my grip and the girl and her seat when sliding down the door of the car and the side of the chair to the ground. Since there was so much blocking her fall, the carseat landed upright and she was securely fastened, no one was injured. Just a wee pout face -- not even a single holler. But then she slept like a demon last night, and by that I mean she was up every hour and a half in an evening starting at 9:30 pm and ending at 4:52 am this morning. I took her for a drive at 6 and decided I better take her in for a check up, just in case. I mean, what child sleeps like that?

Turns out, mine does. She's fine, she just tortures me all night long. Back to the funny part.

So, I told the doctor what happened and she says she will check her out but that she is sure Vivian is fine. So she strips her down, looks at her head, her face, her spine... her legs, for bruises (?)... and then opens her diaper to look at her v@gina. I mean, COME ON LADY! Do you ACTUALLY believe that she has an internal injury from her SEATBELT???? Or, alternatively and almost as incredibly, do you think that I abused my daughter and then voluntarily brought her in to SHOW YOU!?!?!?!?!

These experiences lead me to two, equally plausible, conclusions: either the world is full of idiots and everyone thinks I am one of them, or everyone else is an idiot and I am not. You can imagine where I stand on this debate.

Here's hoping I don't hear the knock knock of CPS anytime soon.

Oh yeah, and just to make it an even 3, I volunteered for the Mother's Milk bank. That's right. I am going to send over 150 ounces of human tissue (that's what the IRS calls it) so that preemies the world over can live longer, healthier lives. I am telling you, readers, so that I won't lazy my way out of it.

So, here's to airport security, carseat chastity belts and liquid tissue. Cheers!

Full Service Cat Washing

About two weeks ago, I found Zach cackling in front of the washing machine. That's actually not abnormal -- he loves the washing machine. Best of all, he loves to put Deedee in and watch her spin round and round. The joy of a front loader... but this time, it was different somehow. So I looked. And surprise surprise, Bitsy was prancing around inside the washing machine like a hamster on a wheel. Fool that she is, when I opened the door, she didn't take the opportunity to teach our young jedi a lesson.

Yesterday, I found Bitsy locked in the front loading dryer, napping. Twice I set her free and twice she refused my offer, opting instead to let Zach lock her in again.

I guess I should be glad that he hasn't turned on the cycles yet, which he is totally capable of doing, but there is a little part of me that likes the idea of a Downy fresh Bitsy.

Tender is the Night

Zach, being the sweetie that he is, frequently stays up in empathy with baby when she up at odd hours. Result: tired mommy, baby AND Zachary. See?


Also, just to set the record straight on the Geyser corner post, Vivian did not have the flu. She is just really pukey. Just like her big bro.

Night Stalker

We are nearly 6 weeks out, and Vivian is still sleeping a ton. Except at night. But even that is better. Last night she and I spent an hour on the porch, listening to the oak leaves falling on the street. A special moment by two measures -- rarely can we hear that sound of spring over the sound of the street, and few other places in the country mark spring with the falling of leaves. Knowing that makes it a little easier to be up with a crying baby at 4 a.m. That, and a pair of fine pink earplugs. (Her late night cries can only be described as the sound that a reeling pony would make. Really -- I get a visual every time. I think she will be a fine horsewoman. And just to preemptively set the record straight, I do respond to her cries, even if I do find it necessary to protect my ears a tad.)

All this sleeping has led to speedy growth and very few photos of her with her eyes open. She graduated to nearly all 3-6 month sizes about 2 weeks ago. I will try to dig out a few photos to demonstrate each of these results:

Brutal Honesty

This is not a photo of Vivian; but it could be. Over the last week, I have noticed that she has been losing hair on the top of her head. Enough so that it's visible on a white towel when I rub her head dry. Enough so that she now resembles Danny Devito. UPDATE: Here is a flattering photo of Vivian's female pattern baldness:


Of course we have been speculating about her hair and eye color when she starts blooming. (I like to think newborns are like buds in spring -- all tightly curled up, you won't know for weeks what colors they will finally display when in full bloom.) Will she have still have black hair and blue eyes? Perhaps take after her mother and trade in her newborn locks for blonde with brown eyes? Hard to say.

Any guesses?

The only thing we know for sure is that she inherited her dad's rosy pale complexion. Looks like Zach and Mommy will have to take trips to the beach without them.

It's OK, baby.

Zach shows some love to baby sister.

Welcome to Geyser Corner!

10:46

Vivian had just finished a morning snack and a healthy nap. Seemed like a good time to go drop off the paperwork at the Montessori for Zach. Just a quick diaper change and we are off...

First thing she does when I lay her down? Puke. Wipe up before it drains into her shirt and we are cool to continue. I strip off her pants and diaper to give her a good wipe down. The cool air on her bum surprises her and she pees all over the changing pad and her pants. No biggie - I just pull the waterproof mats out from under her and there is still a clean dry cover beneath her. As I reach for a diaper, she lets a monster poop out on the cover. Awesome. Wipe that, scoot her to the side and strap another diaper on her. She poops in that one too. Now we are on poop no. 3 in the last 10 minutes. Nothing a seasoned mother hasn't seen before though, right? Back to the diaper changing...


I can now go for a fresh pair of pants. Closer inspection reveals that the back of her shirt has also been soaked with urine. Ok -- a new shirt too. I pick up her now squalling self and carry her over to the dresser. She barfs all over my clean black tee shirt. And the floor. I clean up that mess. She is now in hysterics, and I still haven't even got her clothes on yet, an event sure to cause additional infant outrage. So I pick her up to comfort her and... she barfs on me again. Lay her down, wipe myself down, dress her up, change shirts and... where are we? Oh yes, still squalling infant at hand.

Bounce her around a bit on my shoulder. This time, I cover myself with an entire blanket. She barfs on that, too. Right through it, actually. The swing and bouncer REALLY piss her off. It's quickly becoming apparent that only more nursing will comfort her. (This is a No Pacifier girl. Hates 'em.) Seems like a bad idea, doesn't it? Cause more milk only means more to barf. But, allowing her to cry more and louder seems less tolerable so I let her nurse again. Seeing as she wasn't hungry, she nurses just long enough to settle, then spits the mouthful of milk right down into my bra. Lay her on my lap to clean my bra and she dribbles a bit more on my jeans. Still screaming. Try the swing... still screaming. Certainly not going to jostle her any more... try swaddling her. Marginal results. Swaddle with a sideways lap jostling and high decibal "SHH"ing finally does the trick. (As an aside, though the "Happiest Baby on the Block" stuff seems to work, I am pretty sure that the suggested volume for "SHH"ing, i.e. really loud, is intended to provide an outlet for mother's frustration and anxiety. It works.) Finally silence envelopes us. Oh my gosh, silence at this point is better than a masage at 10,000 Waves. I stop moving. She cries. I am at the end of my rope. Put the baby, still swaddled, in her swing. FINALLY, I can put her down and dry out.

It's now 11:37.

So if anyone ever wonders why it takes so long to get anywhere with an infant, please remind them that it will require 3 diaper changes, 2 infant outfit changes, 2 mommy shirt changes, one mommy pants change, one bra change, 2 changing pad covers, two floor moppings and several sanity checks. And that's before we even get around to doing the laundry.

Even more!

How much would you pay for this many family pictures? Nothing? Less? Don't answer yet!

Uncle Spencer holds wee Viv for the first time -- just like he did with Zach. (Flashback photo to be posted soon.)


Grandpa, still incredulous that there is a girl in the Weiss clan after all these many years.


Grandad teaches the boy to hack.


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Nana encourages Zach to embrace nearsightedness.


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WeeV's first at-home bath. Some tears, some squeals. Lots of clean.


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First post-at-home-bath cuddle.


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First pirate impression. Aaarrrrggghhh!


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WeeZ studies intently for his washing machine finals.


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There are a lot of things the boy is doing lately that we don't know whether to ascribe to the new baby or being two. Por ejemplo:


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That's right. Her pacifier and a pillow under his shirt. I'm sure there's a psychological explanation -- conflating mother/sister -- and I'm just as sure that it's very disturbing.


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Still, he's shown nothing but affection to the girl, when face to face.


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And some more.

Me with girl.


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2 weeks young. [Insert cute phrase.]


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Some Catch-Up Pics

Let's have another look at our chicken-winged girl, back when she was little. These are shots from the last 3 weeks.

Here is WeeV with her Janapops at two days old.


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And here with her parents.


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And here with her Bubbie.


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two steps forward, one step back...

So, Zach is totally on board with the baby thing now. Sort of. I think he realized the perks of having a baby when I brought her into his school one afternoon, and all the hottie toddlers surrounded her like bees to honey. Anyway, now he asks for 'baby' regularly -- especially when he is trying to find an excuse to stay up a little later. "Baby?" he says, if she is not in sight, "Kiss baby?" How can I resist THAT? So he kisses her through the rungs of his crib... first the cheek, then the head. Very sweet. Even more sweet is when it's totally free of alterior motive -- he smooched her with no prompts as she lay on a chair this afternoon. (I'll post a photo when it's no longer 20 degrees in Jesse's unheated office and I am not to weenie to go in there. And yes, I am well aware that this is the second time this week that I have promised photos that I have yet to deliver.)


As for the steps back, he has sobbed every morning that we have dropped him off at school this week. Really big painful sobs. Yesterday, Ms. Iris called me an hour after he was dropped off, thinking perhaps he was sick, since it is SO out of character for him to cry at all there, let alone for a full hour. But, the appearance of trusty Martinskers made things better in the end. It's a tough thing, adjusting to this little sister.

Bustin' the glass ceiling

Well, there has been a lot of growth these last couple weeks. Vivian has survived what many believe the most difficult transition in a baby's life: the first 2 weeks of life. And in those two weeks, she has excelled at her challenges. She eats like a football player, sleeps like a famous fairy tale princess in a drug induced state, and has been growing like Jack's beanstalk on Miracle Grow. Really. She has gained over a half pound and grown a half inch in the last two weeks, bringing it home at nearly nine pounds and 21.5 inches. That's the 95th percentile across the board! Watch out Aden, this girl could very well give your hoop game a run for your money!

Zach has done some growing of his own. The first week, Zach's approach toward the new room mate situation was to ignore her. He seemed to think that if he didn't look at her, or the person holding her, she might eventually disappear. She didn't. Week 2, Zach tried a new tact: cry and wail throughout the day and perhaps he could draw our attention back to him entirely. That didn't work either. On Friday night, at 11 pm he woke up from a nightmare in which it was revealed to him that Vivian will never leave and his parents are commited to loving TWO children. He woke up and sobbed for over an hour, completely inconsolable by anyone. Then, everyone cried. But come Saturday morn, it was clear we rounded a corner. He has been his jolly self ever since -- mostly.

Needless to say, we are very proud of how both kiddos are dealing with the last 2 weeks. Photos to follow, once I can get off my pokey laptop and back on Jesse's audobon of a desktop.