Remember that 80′s sitcom “My Two Dads?”

I don’t know how we got on the topic, but Dan and I discussed Emme having two dads.  You’re thinking uhhh…that’s a little bit kinky and creepy.   But you’ve got it all wrong.  See, Em’s second dad would be my gay boyfriend.  What Kathy Griffin-loving girl wouldn’t want that? But he would have to to be super special, possessing some serious skills.  We’re talking Poppins Mary.  Think Cam from “Modern Family” sans penchant for clown costumes.

He’d be a stay at home gay dad so that he and I would have ample opportunity to snarkily comment on daytime tv while Em naps.   We could go on short spa field trips, each taking turns watching her as we got threaded or coiffed.  On the days I wake up and don’t want to shower let alone slap on makeup, he’d be there to throw a mirror in my face and march my butt to the bathroom.

He’d prepare awesome gourmet meals with Dan and make the best pureed baby food on the block.

He’d have a design aesthetic that marries Nate Berkus and Sarah Richardson/Tommy Smythe and know exactly how to glam up the Manor on a pauper’s budget.

As for Em, she’d be the talk of the teeter-totter.  Two straight parents and one gay?  What a freakin’ awesome twist that would be!

But, alas, I have a feeling she’ll have to settle for just Dan and me.   Who knows… maybe one day she’ll be atop the self-help best seller list.  The title?

I Survived Two Straight Parents and So Can You!

So Em hit her 12th week last Thursday and turns 3 months old this Friday.

Technically, this concludes the “fourth trimester.” She’s grown out of her newborn clothes, giving me ample opportunity to expand her 3-6 month wardrobe with long sleeved onesies, cold weather BabyLegs, holiday dresses and pink sequined tennis shoes. Yes, pink sequined tennis shoes. They were on sale for $5.50 on Totsy. How could I not buy a pair? And another in black…

She’s got more defined features like long eyelashes that mirror her long fingers and toes. She’s got wide, deep blue eyes and growing dark brown hair. Her baby Spock ears have rounded out.

Her “spirited” personality (Leo!) is coming out big time. When she’s tired and beyond over playing with her favorite toy, the Rainforest Bouncer, she’ll let out a “WHA” and smack the toucan or start telling off the monkey. It’s pretty funny and equally frightening as I forsee her terrible twos…

She loves to “talk.”  Her noises include the Sarah Jessica Parker horse huff, giggles and “Hi.” Everything/one from the shutter measuring guy to the bathroom door gets greeted with “HI! HI! HI!” (Don’t worry, we won’t be contacting Mensa – we know she’s not actually saying “hello”)

She’s more deliberate in her actions. She shocked the hell outta me when she activated a push toy herself repeatedly last Friday. Turns out it was a fluke, but I can see her trying to figure out how to do it again. The toys that got zero reaction last month are fabulous smile-getters. Because she’s 3 months, her toy collection expanded to include the 3+ goodies friends and family bought her.

Her biggest accomplishment? HEAD CONTROL! She hasn’t mastered it enough for a front carrier, but she’s really strong. She loves “sitting” and when put in a semi-reclined position, she’ll try to sit up on her own. I cannot wait for sitting, because it’ll be a huge help with her reflux.

Can I tell you how much reflux sucks? It makes for constant nursing and some pretty heinous, heartbreaking choking. She’s been on Zantac for 2 weeks, but we’ve only been able to dispense a full dose for the past two days without her puking or spitting it out. Progress! (kow) I don’t blame her. The artificial grape taste is nast. We tried the crazy Tucker Sling Wedge and it didn’t work (shocker):

So we’re trying the more moderate Tucker Mattress Sling. Life would be so much easier if she could sleep sideways and without being swaddled. She fights her swaddle for hours but, without it, she jerks herself wide awake all night.

Life would also be easier if she took a bottle. We’ve been through a gazillion brands. My sister got her to take an ounce on Saturday after much struggle. We may bring in some outside help, but we don’t want to push bottles hardcore until her sleep is under control. Napping has become a tranny mess nightmare. Em will nap 3-4 times for 15 minutes on me and spend the entire day yawning only to lose her shiznit as bedtime approaches. I caved today and put her in the swing. All the experts say to avoid swings because they create an unhealthy sleep association and they’re upsetting for reflux kiddos. But she’s been asleep for an hour now, so screw them. We start sleep training at 4 months using the Weissbluth Method in hopes of regulating naps and creating a more alert, happy baby and a less sleep deprived mommy.

On the food front, she’s going to have a molecular gastronomical mom. With the no eat list up to dairy, soy, egg and corn, my food choices are pretty limited to meat, produce and things containing tapioca starch and/or rice derivatives. I’m going to call Dr. Taylor Swift to see if she can allergy test Em without heinous amounts of bloodwork.

While it hasn’t always been easy, Dan and I have a pretty great kiddo.  I can’t believe it’s already been 3 months.  I keep thinking she’s brand, spanking new.

When we see the pediatrician next week for a weight and reflux check, we’re not supposed to sit in the newborn isolation area. That means sitting amongst all the sick, 3 month and up children.

I should’ve taken her in today… With it being Halloween, I could’ve dressed her as a 3 week old.

We had a sneaking suspicion early on that Emerson had a dairy/soy allergy.

There were a few green diapers with specs of blood, so I stopped eating dairy and soy products when she was 3 weeks old. No tofu, soy lattes, cheese, butter or ice cream. Cold turkey..ish. I continued eating potato bread, which is made with milk.

Over the past few weeks, she developed a worsening case of reflux.  We took her to the pediatrician yesterday.  While in her office, Em had a nuclear green diaper with specs of red… this after I’d eaten a buttload of Slow Dough Bread Co’s pretzel rolls.  Acid reflux and milk/soy allergy tend to go hand-in-hand.  So Emerson was put on Zantac and I was taken off soy and dairy.  No more bread until at least February, when we “retest” her at six months old. (kow)

It’s going to make eating out beyond difficult, because everything is made with milk and/or butter. And if not, then there are the limitations on all things tasty spicy.  The next few months should be interesting.  I’m not even going to think about what I won’t be able to eat over the holidays.

But oh well!  I went 9 months without caffeine, sushi, tuna and  cold cuts.  What’s another few months of restriction?  If it means Emerson will no longer choke on her stomach acid or writhe with gas, it’s worth it.

I mean who wouldn’t do anything for this cutie?

PS: Update 10/15/11 – add eggs to that.

How am I typing this? Emerson is napping – wahoo! So, ya know, I’m on borrowed time here…ignore typos yada yada

My AWW appointment last Thursday turned into a two day visit, because the LC wanted to spend more time watching Em and determining just how low my formerly oversupplied self was. Answer? Pretty significant. She put me on a pumping regimen that isn’t so easy to follow when you have a nonstop eater. She also lent me a feeding scale that requires me to weigh the booger at the start and end of each feeding. Determining the start and end is also not so easy when you have a nonstop eater. And don’t get me started on mid-feed poops and wardrobe malfunctions. Emerson is Baby Gaga with her multiple outfit changes and coordinating BabyLegs. She keeps me on my toes. If only that translated to weight off my thighs…

Part of the pumping regimen requires giving Em a bottle. Wahoo! Finally!

My Cabbage Patch celebration was cut short when we learned she does not like bottles. Boooooooo! Nooooooooooooo! Well, to be more specific, she doesn’t like the Dr. Brown’s bottles we have. I thought maybe I was just offering the bottle incorrectly, so I took Em to AWW yesterday for a bottle training session. Instead of taking the bottle, Emerson played with it and cooed at Astrid, the office assistant. Astrid had a kiddo who refused bottles, so she felt my pain and attempted a backup method: cup feeding. Surprisingly, she took to it. She’s a good sipper. (kow) She gets that from her scotch-loving dad.

But when she awakes from this much appreciated snooze, I’m going to feed her (shocker), put her cutie bootie in the car seat and head to Babies ‘R Us. There we will buy one of every bottle they have (well, Avent, Born Free and Tommee Tippee to be specific). If none of that works, we’re ditching bottles and trying cup feeding. I’m crossing my fingers for the bottle. Wish us luck.

Oh, and in terrible, horrible, bad, bad mommy news, I made a huge mistake on Saturday. In trying to experiment with tomatoes, I ate some tacos that were likely cooked with jalapenos. DAMN YOU, LUPE TORTILLA. Come Emerson’s normal witching hour/mini colic time (6:00-7:00pm), she was inconsolable. And this wasn’t just her whiny, I’m so sleepy I don’t want to eat but I’m hungry and need a boob to sleep cry.* This was a guttural, pain-packed shrill that not even gripe water could soothe. We ended up driving her around our neighborhood. She preferred that to highway driving, which resulted in her heinous cry becoming a primal scream that left her hoarse the next day. Twenty minutes following our drive, she was ready to eat again and go to sleep at her normal time. Dan and I then tiptoed around our room, ever so careful not to wake her for fear it would start again. Thankfully, it did not. I’m pretty sure that 2-1/2 hours aged us 5 years. I now have a newfound respect for you moms who have(had) babies with full-on colic. (kow)

The pediatrician would like us to experiment with dairy. Jalapenos stay in the system for 2-4 hours. Dairy stays in her system for 3 weeks.

Screw you, pediatrician!

* She’s going to love reading this when she’s 18.

I have a super sad baby who’s lightly sleeping off the heinous 2 month vaccines she got yesterday, so I don’t have much time.

Let me recap the past two months with Em (aka Emerson aka Emme aka Em C aka Snoop Baby Babe) in one word: bananas.

I’m one of those people who loves her a schedule and some predictability.  Yeah, those words get thrown out the door when it comes to all things newborn.  And I’d be totally okay with that if it weren’t for one huge issue we’re having.

Our biggest obstacle has been boobfeeding.  While it comes natural to women living in hut societies, it is the most baffling thing to me.  For every website or expert that says do this, there’s a zillion others with contradictory advice. We’ve had 4 lactation consultants with their hypotheses and the pro-formula pediatrician offering her medical advice.   I’ve been told I do and do not have a foremilk/hindmilk balance.  I’ve been told to avoid and eat soy/dairy/nuts.   Two weeks ago, the pediatrician diagnosed an oversupply/imbalance issue, but yesterday she decided that it was really undersupply.   It’s enough to drive this new mom batshit insane.

What I do know is that I have an unhappy kiddo who’s gassy, refluxy and not at the growth level her pediatrician expects.  She chokes, gurgles and yet eats for hours.  H-O-U-R-S.  And because she eats for hours, she’s a gassy mess while trying to sleep at night.  It’s not the peaceful existence she deserves.  Plus, she’s developed a mean right hook and pinch technique for displaying her dissatisfaction.  This could bode poorly when we have to tell her toddler self she cannot have a pony.

Stupidly, I tried the pediatrician’s milk-supply building recommendations yesterday.  I tandem nursed, took herbal supplements and drank a crap ton of water.  What happened?  Emerson projectile vomited and continued to spit up.  I realized that making a change the same day she got vaccinations and had spent an hour primal screaming her head off (until the pain reliever kicked in) was probably not my most brilliant idea.  The poor girl’s boat was rocked enough.  I didn’t need to literally drown her sorrows.

This Thursday, I’m meeting with A Woman’s Work to discuss real solutions and draft a plan.  If they can’t help, then we’re going to have to switch to pumping and seriously considering the pediatrician’s formula supplementation recommendation.

But all that mess aside, Em is awesome.  She’s cooing, smiling and giggling.  She loves – loves – loves her dad.  It’s awesome to watch her follow him with her eyes as he moves about the room.  I’m pretty sure she digs her mom, too.  I jokingly refer to myself from her perspective as “the cow.”  Ya know, because I’m the food source.  As she stares at me like an alien while I make up ridiculous songs, I’ll speak her mind for her:  “Quit singing badly, cow!” and when I don’t assume the feeding position fast enough it’s “Where’s my dinner, cow!” She’s got a fabulous sense of humor already.

She also has an adorable habit that Dan calls “snooping.”  She’ll simultaneously sneeze and poop.  Hence, snooping.  That always means a diaper change and with each diaper change comes her favorite activity – conversing with Miss Bee: