Isn't it Ironic...?

Are you now humming the Alanis song? Fabulous. More on my irony in a moment...

First, I heard a new word on the news today: tangentially. I need to work that into a conversation soon.

Okay, where was I? Ah yes, irony. As many of you know, I'm a writer by trade, among other things. I just took on a new project for a couple months or so. It's a pretty small, straight-forward gig. The irony lies in the reason they need me. The woman who usually handles the work they need me for is going on maternity leave for a couple months. Meanwhile, the freelancer taking on the job has a 4 week old baby, and if she (why am I speaking in 3rd person?) were still working in corporate America, she would still be on maternity leave, too.

I actually came close to taking on another project this week, until I reminded myself that my kid deserves as much of my personal attention in the first 6-8 weeks as any other working woman's kid. And in truth, we're in a pretty good place financially right now, so what would be my reasoning for taking on more work? And so I did something I've never done as a freelancer before. I turned down perfectly good work.

Wow. Two blogs in one day about completely different things. I'm clearly a blogging maniac. And I even got a shower today. I feel so productive...

Playing the Fool

Yesterday, Wyatt hit the 4 week mark. I have no idea what that means, ha ha, but I guess we're still counting in weeks for a while. I wonder how old I am in weeks... Nope... too lazy to do the math. Never mind.

So anyway, for a few days now, our child has been attempting to make fools of his mom and dad. And who better to do it than a child born on April 1st? He has a new trick. Crying for what seems to be no reason. Fed? Check. Clean diaper? Check. Comfortable clothing and temperature? Sure, as far as we can tell. Healthy? Yes, actually, although he's tried to fool us there a couple times too, with the newborn stuffies. Gas drops? Yep, we try those, too.

He's also employing some manipulative behaviors that all the baby books swore wouldn't start until he was about 3 months old. For instance, "Neh". The Dunston baby language DVD clearly told us that "Neh" means hungry. For about the first 2 weeks, that was pretty dead on. But now, Wyatt has learned that if you throw the "Neh" into the mix, mom or dad will come running with a boob or a bottle. He even tries to use that ace card like 10 minutes after he finishes eating. (Even if it was one of those times he had a bottle, so we know he just downed 4oz.) "Neeeeeeeeeeh. Neeeeeeeeeeh. Feed me. I'm starving to death!" Is it colic? Well, no, not technically, right? Because it doesn't go on for 3 hours straight. (And honestly, if it did go on for 3 hours straight, I probably would have started using noise-cancelling headphones.) Usually, he fusses for about an hour or so at a time, several times a day, especially in the evening. It sucks. We love the little dude, but he's trying as hard as he can to be less likeable....

But then he goes and smiles at me, and I kind of forget that he's on my bad list. Seriously, you try holding a grudge against those big blue eyes. It's work. And so I tend to give in and believe everything that tiny smile suggests: "I'm done with my fussy stage, mom. From now on, it's all cute, all the time." Two minutes later? "Neh!!!!!" Go figure.

More snapshots of the little dude playing me the fool:

These Babes Like to Party!

Last night, Ryan and I got to experience something pretty surreal. We went to a raging party with Wyatt. Okay... "raging" may be a bit of an overstatement. :) Our friends Dan and Jennifer had a group of friends over to their new house. Four of the couples (including us) came with newborn babies, ranging from 1 1/2 weeks to 7 weeks old. Two of the other couples were expecting. A year ago, we were all getting together to go out for drinks. No babies in sight. Plenty of free time and discretionary income. And now here we were, holding margaritas in one hand and baby bottles in the other. Occasionally, there was a line for the counter in the laundry room that was doubling as a baby changing station. There were babies and bellies everywhere! And yet, here's the crazy part: It was fun. A year ago, I think that would have sounded like my own private hell, and yet I honestly think we were all having a really good time. The babies just added this bizarre layer to the evening. And there was this comradery among the new parents, because we were all just figuring things out as we went along and breathing sighs of relief as we realized we weren't alone in this strange new adventure. And frankly, we were with people we really enjoyed just as much now as we had a year ago when none of us had kids. Same people. Same personalities. Just new circumstances. And that, my friends, was such a huge relief. Our lives aren't over! :) I think we're all gonna be okay.

A Good Man, Part 2

Here's a quick update on Super Dad. Ryan's picking up Chipotle right now for dinner. For those of you who don't know, that's one of my favorites. There used to be one right down the road from my place when I lived in Marina del Rey, but in Bakersfield, the only one is on the other side of town. So sad. Again. I have a good man!

A Good Man

Can I just brag for a second about my husband? Ryan has bent over backwards to help me maintain my sanity through these first three weeks of parenthood. A girl couldn't ask for a better hands-on daddy for her child. Last night, he took the late shift with Wyatt, letting me go to bed early and then giving him a bottle during his midnight feeding so I could get a real block of sleep. (And other than rock hard skipped-a-feeding boobs, it was pure heaven!) I can't even explain the difference in my attitude after a night where I actually got something I used to take for granted: REM sleep. There is an actual sanity difference. My brain is actually functioning in a whole new way today. I didn't even know I could feel this normal.


So, yeah. Nice to meet you. I'm Shannon.


I'll be honest. I have no idea if this is the start of the rest of my life or just a blip on the radar. It's very possible that I'll be a weepy mess again in a day or two. Or maybe, like people keep telling me, things really will get easier and my emotions really will stay stable even when it's hard again. I can't predict how things will go. After all, I certainly didn't predict round 1. But it's nice to recognize myself today. The familiarity is amazingly comforting.


Okay, more pics of my munchkin:





















He actually does live places other than his swing, and he does wear clothing other than Naartje, ha ha, but what can I say? He says, "Take my picture, momma. I look fantastic," on days with those two things in common. :) Come to whatever conclusions you want...

Coping with Imperfection

My sister-in-law said it best when she told me being a new mom is like starting a new job with no experience and being expected to know what you're doing. She's right. And there's no warming up period. You're pregnant one day and thrown into the deep end of motherhood the next. I can honestly say that I'm not very good at this. And if I'm perfectly frank, there are days I wish this were a job I could just quit. I love my son. That's part of the problem. If I didn't love him so much, maybe I wouldn't feel so horrible about not being very good at this. But instead, all I want is to get it figured out, so I don't mess him up. So I don't mess my own life up in the process. I want him to be happy and content. And he seems pretty miserable half the time, which breaks my heart.

I've read enough to realize that I'm still floating through the "baby blues". I come up for air sometimes. Occasionally, when I get enough sleep, I feel almost human again. But eventually, even well-rested, the gray cloud comes back and I wish I could just run for the hills. I want to be good at this. I want to be one of those women who realize this is what they were born for. I'm praying that maybe I'll feel a little more like that once I get past the first 6 weeks... or maybe the first 3 months... depending on who I talk to.

Breastfeeding may be part of the problem, too. I'm doing it exclusively, and at the moment, it makes me feel like a prisoner. I hate feeding or changing him in public, so I dread all outings. My version of time to myself is running out to pick up some take-out for dinner while Ryan watches Wyatt as quickly after a feeding as possible so I get home in time to feed him again. I'm grateful for those little blocks of time, but until I can either pump enough to get more than an hour or two away (something I haven't figured out how to do, and in what time to do it in) or else put the little guy on formula (which I have in my head might make me a bad mother, since breast milk is so much better for him - how selfish of me to even want it, right? ...sigh), I don't think I'll really feel like much more than a glorified cow who doesn't speak the language of her calf.

So, yes, this is a little more of the storm. And while there are moments of sunshine - Wyatt has started smiling frequently, usually in his sleep or when he's starting to drift off, and he is still insanely adorable - the storm is still the point leader.

The Storm and the Sun

As I waited to give birth to my son, there was a lot of talk of "the calm before the storm". I can now describe a little about the storm. The first few days were kind of rough. Beautiful, magical, and rough. First, there's just the physical recovery. Let's face it: They don't call it "labor" for nothing. :) I've also experienced what 80% of women experience: the baby blues. And I've realized that they have nothing to do with mental instability and everything to do with circumstance. Sure, your hormones are a little crazy, but more than anything, you're just so sleep deprived, you get weepy. And when that sleep deprivation comes from a new baby, you also feel overwhelmed. You get a little scared that you'll never sleep well again. And, you get a little lonely, because no matter how beautiful your baby is, he can't talk to you or reassure you or even listen with understanding to what you have to say. I cried in the middle of the night at first when Wyatt had his days and nights mixed up and wouldn't sleep for hours at a time. I would sing to him through tears. I've been a chubby, weepy, physically less-than-completely-healed mess. And so, I experienced some stormy weather.

Now for the sunny weather. We discovered that if we keep Wyatt awake and stimulated as much as possible in the evening, and give him a sponge bath before bed, he seems to associate night more with sleeping. And so, last night, he slept for two blocks of three hours each. That gave me almost 6 hours of sleep. Six hours. I felt like a new human being this morning. I had energy. I enjoyed every moment with my son. I got dressed in one of the cute tops Ryan picked up for me when I realized I had nothing that felt right for the postpartum bod. It's amazing how much sleep can effect your outlook on life!

Oh, and here's the kicker: I weighed myself this morning. And although I still weigh more than I ever thought possible, I was excited to see that I've already lost 17 pounds in 6 days. 10 pounds since I've been home from the hospital. And I know there's still more water weight that'll come off pretty fast because I still have cankles and puffy feet. It's pretty nice to know that my starting point for the long journey to a pre-preggo body is going to be a little lighter than what I'd assumed. Don't get me wrong. It'll be a lot of work. But every pound that drops off now is one less I'll have to lose later. And that, my friends, is true sunshine.

Here are some new pics of the little dude:

The New Guy

I know as soon as I get going on this blog, my beautiful, much awaited son Wyatt will be waking up to eat. But we'll see how far I get... :)



The last time I wrote, I was in the early stages of labor. The stages where you can still communicate like a human being and do normal things like sit on a couch with a computer on your lap! Little did I know that it would be thirty-some odd hours later before I would actually meet Wyatt. It turns out, despite all my mind-over-matter will power to the contrary, I would have the kind of long labor they warn first-time moms about. And so, my March baby played the ultimate April Fool's Day joke on me by coming in April! Here are his vital statistics:



Wyatt William Kuhns

Born: 4/1/08 @ 1:34pm

7lbs 6oz, 20 1/2" long



He's a really good looking kid. He looks a lot like his daddy with light brown hair and big blue eyes. We're almost certain they will stay blue because Ryan and I both have blue eyes. Mine are a little greener now, but they didn't change until I was a teenager, so either way... He's also a really mellow little dude. It takes a lot to get him mad enough to really cry. He'll fuss if he's hungry or uncomfortable, but for now at least, it's just enough to get your attention. I think God knew I was going to have kind of a rough recovery physically, so He gave me a baby with a lot of patience. Now, I can't guarantee that he'll stay this way, but hopefully he will be at least long enough for me to get fully mobile again.



Well, I made it through my first blog as a mom without having my son wake up to eat. Pretty stinking impressive. I'm sure there will be more later, but for now, here's some eye candy to tide you over.