Tuesday, December 28, 2010

The Case of the Missing "L"

When I made my list of potential baby names, Eliot was always on there spelled with one L, one T. Extra Ls and Ts just seemed excessive. Unnecessary. Show-offy. Eliot seemed sleeker, more poetic. Plus, the kids and Josh like the nickname Eli, which is an easier jump from Eliot than Elliot.

Except now, after living with it for 6 weeks, I really wish we'd gone with the more common Elliot. Like, REALLY wish. People are misspelling his name left and right, for one thing. Elliot feels more substantial. More masculine. I just like it more. So much more that I spent the morning researching how to change a baby's name in Illinois. It's a fairly simple process but it will cost over $300. I'm kind of scared to even bring it up to my husband, since naming him in the first place was a total ordeal. But part of me thinks now is the time to do it. There aren't many places we'd have to change it, just with the county, the insurance company, and the doctor's office.

Oh yeah, and every single person we know would think I'm insane.

But Elliot feels right. It fits him.

Friday, December 24, 2010

Merry Christmas


I will update this blog much more often in the new year, I promise. I'm aiming big - daily posts!

Friday, December 10, 2010

Eliot at Home

Did you know baby boys can pee on their own faces? And that they can do this while simultaneously throwing up AND pooping yellow mustard poop all over the changing table? My last baby boy is 15 years old; I'd forgotten how good they are at multitasking.

Eliot turned three weeks old on Wednesday. These three weeks have been a string of days spent puttering around the house in milk-stained pajamas, hair uncombed, teeth unbrushed, sink full of dirty dishes. Every once in a while I shovel down a bowl of cereal, or peck out an email one-handed. Because Eliot, while he does sleep on average 18 hours a day, will only do so if he is being held. The second he is set down in a crib, carseat or swing, his eyes pop open and he starts looking for his next meal. Even if his last meal was only 30 minutes ago. Oh yeah, now I remember, babies NEVER STOP EATING. And since my darling, adorable child whom I love with all my heart has declined to breastfeed, I spend any time not attached to my baby attached to a breast pump. I must have the most hydrated baby in history, because this kid makes a wet diaper approximately every three minutes. He hasn't really figured out how to poop yet. Interesting - you are not born knowing how to poop. He definitely does it, and several times a day, but it's an hours-long, red-faced struggle that makes me feel really bad but also sort of makes me laugh. Poor guy.

In the three weeks we've been home, our one big outing was a trip to Target last week. It required the effort and planning of a military operation, and ended with me sprinting the last block to our house through the snow with a howling baby strapped to my chest. He really hates the Moby, which is a shame since it is my only method of transporting him during the day. We didn't get a stroller yet because it's winter, and pushing 30 pounds of deadweight through six inches of unshoveled ice and snow and then trying to lift it aboard a crowded bus is not my idea of a fun time. So, looks like we'll be staying inside our house until May.

Eliot doesn't cry much, but that doesn't mean he can't make his opinion known. He has a whole repertoire of wild animal noises: gasps, growls, grunts, groans, squawks, coos, and barks that generally mean THE BABY IS DISPLEASED. These are the soundtrack of my nights, since he only sleeps in 45 minute bursts and enjoys eating every hour or so. Once he accidentally slept for 4 straight hours and I woke up feeling like I just had a weeklong vacation.

Good thing he's so cute. I could eat his face off sometimes. I mean, seriously, just look at him.


It took me three days to type this post. With one hand.

I don't ever want to go back to work.