2011, you have been berry, berry good to me.

It's that time of year again....the end of it. Time for all of us to enjoy that second (cough-third) brownie, guilt- free as we make the excuse and mental promise of a vegan new year and vow to finally unwrap the food scale. The time to reflect on all the previous year has brought with it, the good, the bad, the sweet, the bitter. For the Kaplan Journey, 2011 has proven to be a year full of abundance: an abundance of support and laughter with family and friends, an abundance of sleepless nights and trying to conclude which way is up most days, and most importantly, an abundance of love for our darling son Max - our every heartbeat, our every breath, our everything. 2011 will forever mark the year Josh and I first became parents; the year I discovered more about myself - my abilities, my strength, my dragons - than ever before; the year I had a true awakening.

As I think ahead to the upcoming year, I almost can't believe that in the space of the next 12 months, Max will be crawling, walking, TALKING, having his first birthday, eating his first sweet. He's already changed and grown so drastically over the past 5 months, each day practically feeling like Christmas morning again and again as Josh and I get to discover his latest ability, milestone, quirk, characteristic. Life's most precious stocking stuffers :) To think that we get to enjoy this even more in 2012 and beyond, well.... I just thank God for blessing us with such a treasure.

To the readers of this blog, I wish each of you a heartfelt Happy New Year. May you take it into your own hands and create for yourself a year you are proud of. May you use your talents, impact the world for the better on whatever scale you can, and wave to your neighbors. May you enjoy good health and appreciate the good health of your loved ones. May you experience moments of real belly laughter, the kind of moments where the humor sticks with you years later, to be enjoyed all over again.

May YOUR Journey be a wonderful one, in the upcoming year and all the years thereafter!

Happy New Year!

Love,

The Kaplans

Muckmucks Nummybubs

Life in the Kaplan household has been full steam ahead (or is it "full SPEED ahead"? I don't know. I'm too tired to Google it. Just know it's bonkers around this joint). Max is growing up incredibly fast - he was 16.6 lbs at his four month well check. Any mom will tell you that we now operate by the language of percentiles (Johnny drooled at 13 weeks? What percentile is that? Betty took her fourth poopie today? WHAT PERCENTILE IS THAT?). So I will tell you that Max's weight puts him in the 75th percentile, and he is in the 83rd percentile for height. While this last stastistic is not overwhelming in its significance at this point of life, Daddy and I did a Happy Dance over it at the pediatrician's office. Max's genetics came to a fork in the road somewhere over the course of 9 gestational months: "Vertically Challenged - THIS way", "Average to Tall Stature - THIS way". Time will only tell how his DNA forged ahead. But to just paint of picture for ya - my great grandfather was a horse jockey. True story.

Besides teething, rolling to his side, and sleeping 12 hours a night (doin' the Dougie), Max has recently started to eat solids! So far, we have fed him rice cereal, applesauce, squash, and now peas, which are his favorite evidenced by numerous smiles and tracking the full spoon like a Russian spy on uppers. We don't feed him solids exclusively yet and he still takes his formula. Recently, we have had quite the time trying to get him to engage in eating from his bottle, as he now seems to enjoy punching it with a legitimate "left hook", over and over and over again. If our neighbors should overhear the conversation in our household, they may be alarmed: "Ugh! Honey, the baby's hittin' the bottle again!"

You may have wondered since my earliest posts what ever transpired with the whole "baby talk" issue. We're going to pretend that you did, anyway. Well, it's with confidence and satisfaction - and with Josh's disdain- that I can report that I engage in baby talk with Max all the time. High pitched voice warmed up, I talk to him about everything from his toesie-woesies to how nasty-wasty those Kardashians behave. I am the first one, however, to admit when I may have taken the baby jargon a little too far. Case in point: over the course of the past 5 months, my term for Max's formula has somehow landed on calling it "milk milk". Right. Not just "milk", but a double "milk MILK". And I say it fast, like all one word. After awhile, the phonics of "milk milk" ended up blending itself into the ever-popular NON-word of "Muckmuck" (can you picture Josh's face at this point?). So I'm feeding Max his muckmuck and trying to have some sort of dialog with him. What better topic than to discuss how yummy - or, in my case - NUMMY! - his muckmuck is. Tack on his nickname - Bubs - at the end, and you pretty much have a case of high pitched babytalk sugar diarrhea.

"Muck muck's Nummy, Bubs!"

Whoa.

Even I threw up a little.

 

Bubba's growing up. . . . I guess they do that. . . .

So I realize that I have dropped the proverbial ball on my blog entries over the last month. But in my defense, how much developement does an infant actually DO within a span of 5 weeks?

Oh, right.

I may as well just dive right into updates and happenings. Without referring to my last entry (I'm like an uppity actress - I never look at my previous work), I believe I left off right before Thanksgiving. It was delicious all around and we had a wonderful time with our families! I noticed during dinner, however, that Max was acting fussy and just plain "off". He had a case of the crankies, wasn't sleeping well, and was knawing on his hands like the last supper. My first thought: my God, the kid's teething! A few days later, when his symptoms had not yet subsided, I took him to the pediatrician to get the once and for all that Max was working on his very first chomper, but alas, she told me he was probably just battling a bug because she didn't feel any imminent teeth.

But lo and behold, a week later.....

Not actual tooth

His front bottom tooth popped through! If I wasn't dizzy over this kid's cuteness before, I'm pretty much passed out on the floorboards by this point.


Anywhoo, since Thanksgiving, Max has had all sorts of fun little outings. Recently, Max's grandparents took he and I, along with Uncle Andy, to see Winnie The Pooh at the Valley Youth Theatre in Phoenix.  We sat in the front row so Max could take in all the Poohy goodness. I was curious to observe if Max would be engaged during the play, seeing as though he was less than 4.5 months old at the time. But within 3 minutes of it starting, he was transfixed, his eyes like saucers, mouth agape as though he had never seen anything like it his entire life.Wait a minute...

As if all this weren't exciting enough, Max celebrates his very first Hanukkah and Christmas this year! As is tradition, Josh and I will be hosting Christmas Eve dinner/games/gifts/drinks this year, although it won't be quite the same, as my brother is not able to make it due to a professional obligation. We'll miss you bro-ski. Max has already gotten his first Hanukkah goodies from family (Thanks Grandpa Keith, Grandma Janet, Aunt Susie and Uncle Mike!), and will have his first Christmas morning stocking experience on Sunday. Prediction: ignores toy, attempts to eat stocking.

                                                  

                                  

A Hairy Situation

As if the diaper changes, drool-catching, booger snatching, and valiant efforts to still conceal the dark circles under my eyes weren't enough to solidify my existence in mommy history, check it:

My hair is falling out.

Yes, the inevitable has finally happened. My sub-par genetics in the tresses department and raising a 3.5 month old have joined forces, resulting in strands being left around the house and pretty much everywhere I go. It's like a stringy trail evidencing my whereabouts throughout the day. "Heidi Hairs", as Josh calls them, have been showing up in the strangest places. The other day, when I was changing the little guy, I pulled one out from his diaper. I grabbed the end with my fingertips, aghast, and started pulling it out from under his bum, slowly, slowly.......slowly....holy shit. He just gazed up at me looking utterly amused, as though he'd been knowingly hiding it in there and was just waiting for me to find it like the afikomen.

Other weird places my mane has shown up:

-Max's crib
-the glider in the nursery
-on the decorative mini Christmas tree centered on the kitchen table. Eew.
-in between Max's clenched fingers (yes, we've officially entered the "Ponytails Only" zone).
-in the car door


In other, non-follicle-related news, we are  gearing up for the holiday season! Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and we are looking forward to spending the day with our families, all together at Josh's mom and stepdad's home. I've always felt lucky and blessed that our two families have come together so cohesively over the years and can celebrate special occassions together, not out of obligation, but rather because we all simply like each other. Technically, this will not be Max's first Thanksgiving. You see, it was last year's Thanksgiving that Josh and I discovered we were pregnant with the booger. Although we didn't tell anyone at the time as it was so early on in the pregnancy, Max was there with us all as we ate turkey and stuffing, laughed in the kitchen, and played board games. What a landmark to look back on.

Wow. Hair AND turkey. Bet you didn't see that coming. Bon appetite!

I always knew our little rockstar would be in a band!

Just an update on our sweet Max. He is smiling as I write this!

We went to Cranial Technologies today to get an evaluation on Max's head shape and asymmetry, due to his torticollis and subsequent plagio/brachycephaly. Say that five times fast. No, really, go ahead. I'll wait. It's a mouthful, so allow me to translate into terms that I myself would have much better understood about two months ago:

Because Max's left neck muscles are slightly tighter and shorter than his right, he has a tendency to tilt his head to the left and favor looking to the right. As he continued to lay on the same spot of the back of his head while lying down, day after day, week after week, his head is misshapen in the back. Fortunately, these conditions do not affect brain growth or function whatsoever. We go to physical therapy twice a week to address the muscle tightness, however, the head shape is best corrected by a temporary orthopedic helmet called a DOC Band. For about 6 to 9 weeks duration, Max will sport this band 23 hours out of the day, so that as his head grows, it fills in the correct areas to become nice and round. He should be out of the band by late February or early March, and Mommy's gonna save ALLLLL the pictures to show his little girlfriends when he gets all machismo and teenager-y.

The evaluation was quite simple and seemless. I was asked to strip down Max to just his diapie, and we were ushered into a room with a table draped with a white cloth, a pillow, and equiptment fit for a magazine cover shoot: bright lights, that umbrella looking thing, you name it. As I propped up Max on the pillow for the photo sesh, he started to smile, giggle and wave about. "Ooh! Take the pictures now! Oh did you get that one? He's beaming! Ok now shoot, he's drooling out the side of his mouth! Did you see that, he's kind of making a thumbs up sign... take it!"

"Ma'am, we're here to get pictures of his flat head."

Right. Carry on.

So there you have it. Max should have his helmet in about a month. As my brother (Max's Uncle Andy) put it best, "He'll be all the more ready for those batting cages!"

Batter up!

How do you make a costume dance? Put a little booger in it!

Hello, readers! Lots to write about and I gotta move fast, as Mr. Max is taking a nap and it is only a matter of time before I see him squish and squirm around on his monitor, subtly implying, "I'M SO OVER THIS." So I will try to get in as much as I can, starting with an important announcement: Max slept from 8:15pm - 8:15am this morning!!! (happy dance). His sleeping has gotten so much better ever since he has started taking naps in his crib (we also changed swaddle blankets to one that practically mummifies him, but that's an aside). As far as a daily schedule goes, well, we're working on it. Mommy's first mistake: looking on the internet for the normalcy of infant schedules. Below is an example of what one may find when Googling others' opinions on parenting a 3 month old.

Exhibit A:
- my DS ("Darling Son", for those unfortunate few who aren't hip to the world of online mommy forums, tsk tsk) had a schedule down to the minute by 6 weeks old, as follows:
8:08 am - wakes up
8:30 am - first feeding
8:36 am - burps followed by a smile
9:08 - 12:24 play
12:24pm- helps Mommy in with groceries
12:53pm - nap
1:07pm-  play, feed
1:29pm - smiles and coos, diaper change
1:34pm - more play, sign language and foreign affairs

.... you get the picture. Oh, this baby also slept 12 hours a night straight before he even left the hospital.

Awesome.

Repetitive Googling (RG) is a chronic condition in which new mothers seek specific, biased information from the internet, which typically backfires causing otherwise avoidable stress and anxiety which can only be comforted by a slice of something chocolate. If you have at least three tabs open on your browser lasting 4 hours or more, consult a physician.

I could sit here and type out, one thousand times, to NOT look on the internet for any answers about your little booger's habits. I oblige you. However, I believe that learning this lesson on your own is imperative; as a new mother, we ourselves have to put our hands on the hot stove of the world wide web until we reach the point in which we can truly recognize its worth (or lack thereof). Because the truth of it is, you can confirm or negate ANYTHING you want via the internet. According to what I have researched, (insert parenting practice here) is ideal/encouraged/indifferent/frowned upon/avoided/an abomination. So I have made a vow to scrap the internet altogether, when my natural motherly instincts are begging for a vote of confidence: "Put me in, coach! I know what I'm doing!"

Onward. Last Monday was quite a special day for Max - his first Halloween! He did great in his chicken costume, as did his Daddy:





I took Max to his Musicology class that day, where all the little munchkins wore their Halloween costumes (oddly enough, not one went as an actual munchkin). If there is one thing on this planet that is cuter than kittens in snowshoes, it's babies in costume. Exhibit B:




Told ya.



Farmer and her chickens

After class, we went home so Max could take nap and psych himself up for his first night of Trick Or Treating! We dressed him up again and went to our friends Nick and Stacey's house to meet up with them, our friends Chad, Ashley, and Jaclyn, and their adorable children. We all ventured out into the neighborhood for some candy hoarding fun. Though Max slept in Daddy's arms the entire night, he will always have pictures to look back on to document his first Halloween ever.

Later that evening, Josh and I went out for Cave Creek's Annual Halloween Pub Crawl. It was our third year doing it, and it felt good to keep up with one of the traditions we love.


Lately, the main focus of our days consist of continued efforts to help Max correct his torticollis and plagiocephaly (if you didn't know about this, gotcha! You haven't been reading.) He continues weekly PT and we are scheduled to get an evaluation on his head shape and "severity" (geez, that word sounds so severe) of his tort. Meanwhile, I try to keep him off his head as much as possible, so no more head stands. Just checking if you're still paying attention. I actually carry him around in the Baby Bjorn while around the house, as setting him down in his swing or bouncy seat makes me feel like Mommie Dearest's irresponsible sister. We also incorporate numerous stretches into our day to lengthen his neck muscle. I will be sure to keep you all posted on his definite progress!

How's THAT for suspense.

Ok ok. So I know it's been awhile, and I've heard from many of you that you've been waiting on a new posting and are starting to get the shakes. (It could have also just been the fanbase I've created in my head - those voices are so REAL!). Anyway, so much has happened since I last wrote, and I figured I'd better write the latest before Halloween hits, because that obviously earns its own posting, and then events get ahead of documentation and well it's just a blogger's avalanche.

(Deep inhalation)

SO.



The past month has gifted us with some extremely special visitors. First, my best friend Dana, who travelled with her boyfriend, Doron, to the U.S. from Israel. It was such a special trip, as I get to see her maybe once per year, and Max met his Auntie Dana for the very first time. We all had such fun, hanging at the house and taking them around our 'hood for lunch and sightseeing. Her trip schedule was pretty jam packed as her brother got married the following week, so we only had one day with each other. It wasn't nearly enough time, but nor would have been a year's worth of time with her. It's never enough.

Lauren, Elliott, Riley, Max, Heidi

The very next day, I got to see one of my other best friends, Lauren, and meet her insatiably adorable son, Elliott! They flew in with Lauren's mom from Ohio for a visit. If you're friends with me on facebook, you've surely seen some of her amazing photography in the pictures she took of Josh, Max and I at the park. Lauren, our friend Riley, and I got together for dinner and then lounged around with our rugrats the following day. We watched TMZ and had wine and it was beautiful.

Last but not least, Josh's Aunt Susie and Uncle Mike flew out from North Carolina to meet their great nephew Max. We enjoyed every minute with them, shopping, going out for snacks, and visiting with each other at the house. They also babysat the little boog so that Josh and I could venture out to - hold on to your hat - see a movie. We saw Moneyball, which was good, in case you acidentally stumbled onto my page instead of Rotten Tomatoes. Two desperately unmanicured thumbs up. Anyway, their visit was just great.

"She has no idea she's going to change this diaper"

On the day-to-day front, Max and I busy ourselves with all sorts of outings. You know how I know I'm a suburban stay at home mom? Because I go to things like "Moms On The Move" and "Musicology" and meet up with friends and their little ones to swing by places called Zoolikins and Tush. All jokes aside, I have found it to make a huge difference in my sanity level when we venture out of the house at least once per day.

One of our weekly outings consists of physical therapy, which started last week. Not uncommon, our little Maxamoo has a condition called torticollis (I always think of a tortoise with colic. And now you will, too). Basically, his left neck muscles are tighter than the right, perhaps from chillin' in the womb in the same position for too long, and subsequently, he favors looking to the right. While it's not a huge deal in the immediate future, it can cause positional issues down the road. We are being taught some stretching exercises and other efforts to help his neck muscles lengthen. Since he overdoes it with the right-sided stuff, it doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure that we must encourage Max to look to the left as much as possible, to even the score. Now, the picture below illustrates my creative attempt to offer up a novel visual for Max to gaze at while holding his head to the lefthand side. By scrolling down to the image below, you agree in good faith to not copy, paste, email, BLACKmail, or anything in the 'chortle' family.

Switching gears, wanna know what's redonk? This kid's personality. He smiles and laughs all the time; we don't even have to earn it. Josh and I are savoring this time in his life for every morsel it's worth. He giggles now - and not just the "AHH" sound with a smile (pssh), but an actual "HA HA" (note the second "ha", which constitues a true laugh for all intents and purposes). Every morning I look over into his crib, I am greeted with a smile the size of a Zoolikin, whatever that is. And it's like sparkplugs to my heart. He will be 3 months old on November 2nd, and I know exactly what people meant when they warned me, "it goes by so fast". 'Cause it does.

So there you have it! That's the latest. Stay tuned for future posts, the next of which is sure to recap this weekend's Halloween festivities. As a teaser, know this: Max is a chicken. And I, in my attempt to stay hip and not stray too far off the path of Halloween Costumes Past (you know - any underpaid profession uniform, three sizes too small), have decided that I may - just MAY - undo one strap of my "Farmer Heidi" overalls. Ya. Believe it.


Why, it's THIS way to the Gun Show.

Max at PT, doing an arabesque (sorry Daddy)

 

Look, Max! It's froggy mama! Look left, Max! Left! LOOK F&**!n LEFT!"



 





You know you're a new mother when . . . .

You know you're a new mother when . . . .

1. It takes you 4 hours to walk your ipad from the living room to the bedroom to plug into the charger.
2. Babycenter.com has replaced Google and/or Facebook as your home page.
3. You continue to sway in a side-to-side rocking motion after handing off your baby to your husband.
4. Blow drying your hair is reserved for only those occasions on which you are sure you will be seeing other adults (makeup and any pants of the non-sweat variety apply here, as well).
5. You start talking to your coffee.
6. You hear your baby stir in the middle of the night and you, before completely waking up, have a glorious dream that you hired an evening nanny. (True story).
7. The thought of heading to the grocery store with your infant makes you sweat and end up in the pantry, talking yourself into preferring the expiring corn flakes you've been grazing on the past six days.
8. You laugh at all your high heels and wedges as they get kicked further and further back into the closet.
9. Baby talk inadvertently finds its way into every adult conversation at least once.
10. You lock eyes with your smiling child, and your heart melts into his like they have beat as one your entire life.

A nod to the Boob Tube

As a stay at home mom (or, "SAHM", the acronym I quickly learned after posting my neurotic questions on countless pregnancy forums), I am kept quite busy taking care of our little booger, but I do get some down time. One of my hobbies that has grown into more of an indulgence than ever before has been that of watching television (please pull in that lower lip that I predict has just sagged as part of a pitied response to my new, Suburban Mom agenda). I love TV! Which is a good thing, considering that this fall has brought with it a lineup of shows that are absolutely amazing, not the least of which is NBC's new hit comedy, Up All Night. It follows the life of new-parents-couple Reagan (Christina Applegate - love!) and Chris (Will Arnett - love love!), and includes, in my opinion, one of the funniest supporting roles on TV, talk show host Ava (Maya Rudolph - more loves).

The timing could not have been more perfect. When the first previews for this show were aired, I was about 8 months pregnant with "Baby K". I remember rubbing my belly while telling Josh how awesome it was that we'd be able to watch this show that will parellel our lives with the little munchkin. Fast forward a couple months, and picture it: Josh and I, new parents for just over 4 weeks and questioning everything we ever knew about anything we ever thought we knew about parenting. Or babies. Or how to center one's self. My two-day-old ponytail barely hanging on by the thread of my hair tie, giant mug-o-coffee perched on the end table as a  lifeline to sustained energy (and liquid hugs, if you ask me), I cradled a fussy Max in my arms and swayed from side to side as the pilot episode premiered. With my mind in a million places and my body begging for sleep, I doubted my ability to even focus on the show's dialogue, let alone enjoy it. But I had waited for this day for months now, and like hell if I was going to forfeit an opportunity to watch a friggin' television show.

And then it started. And it was perfect. It was accurate. It was US.

I don't know if it was the writing, the acting, or that this show so perfectly captured what it had been like for Josh and I the past month acclimating to parenthood. All I knew is that my overwhelming sense of gratitude to the creators for giving me the gift of feeling NORMAL could no better be expressed than by tears of amusement/appreciation, incessant "shrieky" laughter, and interjecting commentary of "Uh huh!"s, "You KNOW that's right!"s, "Oh my God, yes! So true!"s, and so forth. If I'd been in a movie theatre, I'd have gotten shushed and Raisinettes thrown at my head.

So consider this post a big ups to Up All Night - a show that gives an empathic high-five to the journey of parenting and trying to retain some semblance of the cool, hip young cats we all used to be before burp rags and bottle cleaners.

Thanks, NBC! You are mommy's blankie.



Be still, my beating heart

I suppose I should post this update as it is, in some cultures, marginally significant:

OUR BABY SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT!!!!

 

Yes, that is right, folks. After just over 8 weeks of life, last night, Max Samuel blessed his parents with the gift of 5 consecutive hours of uninterrupted sleep (newsflash: in parentland, five hours of sleep is indeed a FULL night.) This morning, when I awoke to the sound of not a baby stirring, grunting, or flatout screaming, but rather of the little birdie family that has made its home outside our bedroom window, I was stunned. I immediately flipped over to the baby monitor situated on my nightstand, and turned on the video to witness the miracle. And there he was: a little black and white baby (the monitor screen shows in black and white, you didn't miss anything), lying snuggly in the middle of his crib, contented with his arms outstretched to the sides, as though summoning his devoted followers to join him in song, or welcoming friends to Sunday brunch, as if to say, "let's eat."

My heart skipped a beat when I sleepily stared at the digital clock and the time came into focus. Wow. I only got up once tonight to feed him.

"The kid's a rock star" I mumbled to Josh as I rolled over and scooted myself down beneath the covers for one last stretch of slumber.

Now, I realize that the mere act of blogging about this event pretty much guarantees that tonight will be a scene out of Night of The Living Dead. Because that's just the rule of having a baby: the moment you settle into one routine, the kid pulls the old switcharoo on you, and it's a whole new ball game.

Guess you'll just have to keep checking in to see what happens :)

                              

Mommy's pacifier

Exhibit A

And-a-1, and-a-2, and-a . . .

Welp, Max has surpassed the pivotal, milestone 7-week mark! Actually, 7 weeks is about as eventful as picking the crusties out of your eye in the morning. However, this means that Josh and I have had 7 weeks to get to know our little booboo, his likes and dislikes (i.e. likes: getting his diaper changed - which, when you think about it, is a pretty sweet deal; dislikes: tummy time for more than 6 minutes), and soaking up his smiley faces like a freakin' Swiffer.

As I said - and if I may speak for him - Max LOVES life up on the changing table. I don't know if it's the view from up there, that he's more eye level with the person who is cleaning his bumbum, or simply the feeling of the velour changing pad cover on his skin that floats his boat. But whatever it is, there is no shortage of boat-floating every time I perch him on that thing. Exhibit A:

Now, I have had a long history with music of all kinds: jazz, classical, pop, rock, blues, choral, country - you name it. I've been in choirs and seen musicals and have listened to the Hairspray soundtrack upwards of three thousand times. Hell, I remember the tunes from Sesame Street from when I was a kid. But wouldn't you know, that whenever my little booger looks up at me expectedly, as though he has just thumbed through my musical repertoire and is waiting for me to whip out my pitch pipe . . . I got nothin'. Every song I have ever known washes away from my brain. Oh my God . . .do I have performance anxiety in front of my infant? Or am I so in need of a tune at that moment, my brain backfires in a "fight or flight" response pattern? Whatever it is, I have found myself digging deep into the crevasse of my vocal collection to pull out something - anything - to entertain this kid as he abuses his Pampers with delight. The following is a list of what I  continuously come up with (this is not a joke):

- "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music, mimicking Julie Andrews' accent ('Girls in white dresses all tied up with string' . . . wait that's not right . . .)

- "So Fresh and So Clean (clean)" by Outkast

- "SUpermaaaan!" (that's all. Repeat x 20)

- "Clean Diapers" (Sung to the tune of "Green Acres" theme song)

- The Oscar Meyer weiner jingles (both "My bologne has a first name" and "Oh I wish I were an Oscar Meyer weinerrrr". He seems to especially respond to this one.)

All the songs in the world - the lullabyes, the serenades, hell, even slow jams of the 90's, and I continue to return to this exact lineup.

I suppose the point here is that my little munchkin couldn't care less what Mommy sings to him (Max, I'm speaking for you again). His eyes light up, legs kick out, and giggles ensue. So for all you new moms out there: as long as your voice is happy and calm, you can pretty much sing the material off an airline safety pamphlet, and all he'll know is that he is safe, loved, and has the best seat in the house.

To poop, perchance to dream.

So one of the more exciting updates - about a week ago, Josh and I discovered Max's first social smiles! (read: not of the cheese-cutting variety). After a night of getting up every hour or two to tend to Mr. Max's screaming "requests", Josh and I were utterly exhausted come morning, when Max began to stir in his bassinet. We went over to him and leaned down to find him wide-eyed and bushy-tailed: warm, fed, dry, and SMILING! Our hearts skipped a beat as this was the first time we saw him actually smile out of contentment. As probably many new parents do, we immediately sprung into high-pitched voices, silly faces, waving limbs and tickles to his toes in order to perpetuate the smiles that he was already perfectly capable of accomplishing unassisted. His smile dropped for a minute, eyes widening with a look of confusion and doubt at this pair of clowns staring down at him. But then it returned, all gummy and glorious.

I have tried to snag a good photo of him in his beany state, but my camera's delay in snapping the pic has left me with about 35 blurry pictures in my Blackberry of a kid with his hand in his mouth/eyes closed/mid-fart.

Here's the closest stuff I've got:

 

 

Yes, I know this post has nothing to do with poopies, as the title suggests. But he does it a lot. There.



The Land of the Free, and the Home of the Brave

Today marks the 10th anniversary of the attack on America and the World Trade Center towers in New York City. Ten years. As do many of us, I look back today on where I was on that fateful morning in 2001, a morning that our psyches, our spirits, and the world as we knew it, took a major and indelible shift. I was in my dorm room in Palo Verde Main at Arizona State, sleeping snuggly in my tiny, single lofted bed. I woke up to a phone call asking me if I had seen what was happening in New York. As I rubbed my eyes and the room came into focus, I ran down the hall to a friend's room, where about half the floor was gathered watching the events unfold. And everything changed.

I write this account to underscore the dramatic shift that has taken place over the past decade, both in my personal life and in the country and world at large. As I watch the touching, heartbreaking memorials and retrospectives on TV today, I simply shift my gaze a few feet over to my sleeping, 6 week-old baby boy, loving on the business end of his pacifier, dreaming of wondrous things, no doubt. Innocent. And I can't help but wish so much for him, almost squeeze my eyes shut and pray that the humanity he is to grow up amongst  is one that comes together more than defies each other; where the sense of community is practiced and celebrated, not only on the coat tails of tragedies or their respective anniversaries, but even in between.

Hoping, wishing, and praying are all gestures that surely don't hurt in creating a better future for our offspring, but taking action and channeling this hope through behavior is something I know I can do for him today; to model for him behaviors of kindness, community, expression, resilience, selflessness, respect, optimism, and courage. Not just in the aftermath of tragedy, but even when the dust settles. For whatever kind of world it is that our Max is to inhabit throughout his life, I wish for him that he will live with an infrasturcture of qualities that will carry him through in times of adversity; stop to appreciate something simple and beautiful; discover his strengths and use them to help another; to love.

9/11.

"Never Forget".

We see this beseechment on everything from t-shirts to posters, status updates to now textbooks. "Never Forget". What does it truly mean? To remember the events of that day- the chaos, the confusion, the tears? These images are forever captured in our memories. In addition, and more importantly, may we never forget the heroism that occurred on that day; the banding together of forces and the people who lost their lives, and what they represent. The families that pulled themselves off the floor from the shackles of their own despair and moved forward in the face of ineffable sorrow. The courage and the healing that came out the darkness of that day. We must not forget THESE things. For these are the residual images and emotions that we can pull strength from, teach our children about, and use as a representation of what we are capable of as a country and as individual beings. This is what I want to instill in my son, the beautiful gift we've been given who will continue on long after Josh and I are gone, and hopefully living in a world that is stronger, kinder, and more self-realized than we left it.

I love you, Max Samuel.

Blogs n blog. .s . . .zzzzzz.....sorry what?

I sooo should be writing a post about how I only got 1 hour of sleep last night. However, I got only 1 hour of sleep last night. So I've posted a picture of the little dev - er- angel, to wet your whistle.




God he's lucky he's cute.

Josh

My husband and I just celebrated our three year anniversary on Tuesday - the same day that Max turned 4 weeks old. What an emotional snapshot that day serves to be. I couldn't imagine the last three years without my husband, nor can I imagine a single day without him in the next 50. He has infused my life full of colors that I could never see before he came into it. The past three years have been filled with love, laughter, growth, change, and adventure- not the least of which has been the greatest gift parents will ever know - a baby, a child.

He has taken to fatherhood like he was born to do this. He has been my lighthouse in emotionally choppy waters; my exhalation, my comic relief, and my north star. He has gone back to work to provide for our family, then comes home each day to love on his son and his wife with abandon. If there is anything I wish for our son, it is that he grows up to have the same emotional dedication as his Daddy.

Thank you, sweetheart, for adding a dimension to my life that is impossible to replicate in any other way, a love that feels unlike any other, and the sweetest little angel on the planet. If you have outdone yourself as a husband in any way, it has been only by being that incredible of a father.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Happy Anniversary!

I'll sleep when I'm dead

Hi ya'll! I figured that while these three heaping teaspoons of instant coffee are still running through my veins like a well-oiled machine, I should squeeze in a blog entry before my eyes turn into little "x"'s and I'm passed out asleep, tongue lopped out of my mouth and the kid in his bouncer wondering what's happening to Mommy.

Max has passed the 4 week mark, and will officially be 1 month old on Friday! He's really been a great baby, crying only when he truly needs something (I'm hungry/I'm wet/I pooped/I'm gassy/I'm cold/I'm hot/I want to be held/I've had enough reruns of Will and Grace to last a lifetime can we please turn it off for the love of Pete). I've taken over nighttime duty, as Josh has returned to work and needs to get a full night's sleep as best he can. Over the course of 4 weeks, I have become quite accustomed to Max's noises and cries. Now, I simply wait with bated breath at the sound of him stirring with a good cry on deck, rather than spazzing out and tightly gripping Daddy's hand under the covers with the melodrama of that old couple at the end of Titanic who stay in their bed to go down with the ship.

Yes, I just compared my crying infant to drowning in the Atlantic.

This is the part where I "freeze frame" the blog entry, break the fourth wall and turn to you, the reader, explaining that in all honesty, it's fun to be slightly dramatic and martyr-ish when it comes to detailing the life of a new parent. It's truly been a fantastic, wondrous journey since day one, and although it's had its moments of deep sighs and helpless cries, it is exponentially outshadowed by the immense joy and excitement that Max has brought into our lives! So please, if you are considering expanding your family and are reading this, don't add that chastity belt to your Christmas wish list just yet.

Ok. "Time in!"

Throughout the nights of getting up to feed, rock, burp, swaddle, and stare out the window at the sun mocking me in its first appearance of another day, I have picked up a few morsels of wisdom that can only be acquired on the journey of new motherhood:

-12:00am episodes of Say Yes To The Dress are the same ones that already ran earlier in the day. Minus one point for midnight feedings.
-Food indeed tastes so much yummier when prepared by someone other than one's self.
-Number of times the term "counter-intuitive" appears in the book Happiest Baby on the Block: 56.
 (First tip-off that parenthood is a whole new ball game).
-Blogs from other moms or mom-to-be's are actually interesting now.
-Any string of words can be made into a soothing song, you just gotta sell it. Here, try it: "Four score and seven years ago . . . ." (Interpretive dance moves don't hurt the cause).

Max is a happy baby - and after surveying that the next youngest person living on our street is in his upper 40's, dare I say that our little Max is, indeed, the Happiest Baby on the Block.

Max's Bris, and a Day with Auntie Shannon

Ok, a couple out-of-order updates on the life of Mr. Max. I would not be upholding my part of this blog if I didn't include one of the most important days of Max's life thus far- his Bris!

After 8 days of being on this earth, Max had his ceremonial circumcision, hosted by my in-laws in their home. The doctor did a beautiful job explaining the significance of this right of passage and its meaning. Though I was nervous, I managed to hold it together until the doctor fed Max a little wine - the calm before the storm, if you will. At this point, Mommy looked away the entire time while Daddy and Grandpa Steve held down the fort and witnessed the event, along with about 40 of our friends and family members. Our little one did a great job (like he had a choice!), and recovered quickly, napping the duration of the evening (can ya blame him?). He was passed around from loving arms to loving arms, making not a peep until we got home and lightly suggested it was bedtime, which in baby world, equates to party time.

The evening was truly special; my mother-in-law did an incredible job hosting the night and making it one to remember. This was Max's first real outing of more than an hour total. It was a big night, and he did great. Thank you to all who came to support us, and our love and hugs go out to those who couldn't be there.

Max also had another big day. This past Friday, he had his first whole day being babysat! Our good friend Shannon was kind enough to look after Max while Josh went to work and I had my nasal surgery (all went well!). Shannon took GREAT care of our little guy, and her beautiful daughter Suri and Max had some special cuddle moments! Shannon said Max was great, and even gave him a bath! Anyone who returns your kid smelling better than they arrived is an A+ friend in my book.




Proud Grandparents

Teamwork at its finest, people.

 







YE-LLO!

Hi! My name is Max Samuel, and I've been around for just over three weeks. I love to poop, pee, eat, sleep, smile due to gas, and be burped. I love my back patted and scratched - NOT rubbed. Bath time rocks, and I love it when Mommy pours water down the back of my head to wash off the baby shampoo! I've been growing like a reed and achieved my birthweight by two weeks. Daddy likes to tote me around in the Baby Bjorn, and he's already an expert. Mommy claimed she'd never be "one of THOSE women" who posted pictures of me on Facebook at 10 minute intervals, but guess what - SHE IS. So if you want to see what I look like at any given hour of the day, that's your hub. I don't mean to toot my own horn (I toot enough as it is), but I'm pretty sure Mommy and Daddy are quite obsessed with me  . . .

 More later!

Be careful what you wish for!

Today marks 3 weeks - YES, 3 WEEKS - that Max has been on this planet and charming us with his baby breath, paci sucking marathons, and sweet little stare that would melt the heart of the truest Scrooge. I'd be remiss to not add that we've also endured three weeks of late-night crying fits, poopies mid-diaper-change, and an array of spit-up hanging from most things in our home. This experience has been nothing short of incredible on all fronts: our ability to "buck up" and adapt at the drop of a hat out of pure necessity, the joy and absolute wonder that has filled our hearts since his arrival, and the realization of how much unconditional support and love we have from those around us. Simply put, life's been pretty amazing.

That's not to say, however, that Mommy didn't have her moments. Ohhh, and there were moments. The most fitting summation of my freak-out phase has to be evidenced by the Google search history I recently stumbled upon, documenting my mental state from my very first week of Mommyhood. Enjoy:

"Breastfeeding help"
"Breastfeeding + help!"
"Newborns + what nobody told me"
"Dr. Brown's bottles"
"C-section recovery"
"C-section + bowel movement?"
"Percacet side effects"
"Newborns + overhwhelmed + normal"
"Caffeine and breastfeeding"
"New mommy + success stories"
"Pictures of pie"
"What newborn cries mean"
"Late night food Cave Creek + delivery"
"Facebook"
"Diaper too tight?"
"16 and pregnant"

Soon after we arrived home with Max (and shook off the shock and lingering question of "NOW WHAT??"), Josh and I quickly got our heads together and began to function like expert partners in a three-legged race. I'm talkin' team-WURK, people. Oh, there were trials and errors, and many a hand-off while we literally mime-wiped our hands clean and left for the other end of the house. But we managed to find our footing over the course of a couple weeks, and I don't feel I'm jinxing it to say that we're no longer treading water, and actually feel - -gulp- - comfortable.

The biggest adjustment, as anyone reading this would guess, was adapting to, like, NO sleep. Upwards of four times a night, I would sit in the glider, eyelids drooping, feeding the boy with one hand and frantically scrolling the track ball on my Blackberry in a desperate search of recent status updates on Facebook, 'cause that means I'm not the only one on the planet up and percolating at such an ungodly hour.

In reference to the title of this post, my wish upon a star out the nursery window to get some much needed rest was granted in the form of surgery under general anesthesia. According to my ENT, I have a hemangioma tumor in my nose (Geez, Heidi, sneak attack with the nasties, I'm not even done with my cereal!). What I first assumed was a sinus infection on the coat tails of all those nose bleeds is actually a pollup of sorts which necessitates surgery for its removal and subsequent relief from wishing the left half of my face were blown off with an uzi. Surgery is scheduled for Friday. So there you have it. Mommy wants sleep, Mommy gets it in the form of general anesthesia and pain killers. In all honesty, I am nervous to spend so much time not actively caring for Max. For three weeks, I have been by his side, or holding him, or eating his cheeks, or smelling his butt. It will be a major shift to go from that, to sleeping  for more than three hours at a time. Alright. Typing that actually got me kinda excited. Bad Mommy.

Josh and I, albeit still exhausted to a degree rivaled only by a few Vegas weekends in college, have gotten to a place where visitors are truly welcomed and we have the wherewithall to actually hold substantial conversations to catch up with our friends and families. We've taken Max out for lots of quick errands, and it's finally feeling like we are simply a cute little family of 3 inhabiting the world, doing our thang. It's a great feeling. Max has gotten to meet so much of his family and pseudo-aunts and uncles, and has met many of his new friends, like Suri, Charli, and Reznor! We are finding a place of comfort with him; I really didn't expect to experience this turning point so early on, and I feel blessed to already feel like we've "made it".

(Flash forward to next week's blog, titled "Eating My Words") 

:0)

The Love of Our Lives, Mr. Max.

And so the journey REALLY begins. . . . .

Family, friends. If you are reading this and are thinking, "Wait. She has time to write a blog entry, but not call me/email me/text me/facebook me back?", please consider this as my gift to you - a one stop shop to get up to speed on my life, so that when I DO call/email/text/facebook you back in between feedings and diaper changes, no time will be wasted and we can talk about all that is fabulous with YOU. See what I did there?

Welp, there you have it. Max Samuel Kaplan has made his entrance into this world a healthy, pink little human being. It was quite the journey getting him here safe and sound, and since this is a place for you to check in on us, allow me to tell the story of how little MSK got here . . . .

If you have been keeping up with the blog, you know that about a month and a half ago, I began struggling with severe nosebleeds. A couple frantic trips to the ER led me to an ear-nose-throat doctor, who cauterized an area he believed to be the source of my problems. All returned to normal, until I hit 39 weeks.
In the middle of the night, I was awoken to the taste of my own blood (oh right, now would be a good time to put down your fork). After a few gulps and realizing what was happening, I jolted out of bed and ran to the sink to pinch to sh*t out of my nose. And it worked.... for about two hours, when the gusher would start again out of absolutely nowhere. After a sleepless night of staying up at the sink pinching, Josh had an all-day work meeting in town, and I had my 39 week OB appointment. Since I couldn't drive out of fear that another bleed would start as I hit 75 mph on the freeway, I spent my morning with my Mom, who accompanied me to the appointment.

Four gushers later, I was in the middle of describing these insatiable bleeds to my OB nurse, who stared at me with what appeared to be a look of confusion, perhaps doubt, maybe pity. It was during my nervous explanation to her about my bleeds that somebody up there took the reigns and prompted a bleed to start right then and there, in front of her. I bolted to the sink and pinched. The nurse hurriedly grabbed my OB and started to talk to her in that hush-hush way that makes you feel like somewhat of a sideshow. The OB Dr. and nurse came into the room and urged me to make an emergency appointment with my ENT to recauterize the area of concern, and have the ENT contact the office to let them know when would be the optimal time for me to push. Yes, PUSH.

 "....hhh...uh?"

"We'd like to deliver your baby tonight."

WHHHHAAAAATT?

Adrenaline and heaping dose of fear flushed throughout my entire body. I was not me. I was somebody else; a machine trying to acclamate to this information that I was absolutely NOT prepared for.

Numb, I met my mom in the lobby and told her we had to get to the ENT right away. Within 30 minutes, I was being seen by him, who, after draining out all the blood, recauterized me and ended up needing to pack my nose to prevent further chaos. About 10 minutes passed before I mustered up the courage to look in the mirror. Staring at the tube coming out of my left nostril and taped to my face, sinus goo dripping out of my eye, it was not quite the image I had dreamed about the past 9 months. After I informed my ENT that he had to get in touch with my OB, he left the room, took a seat at a desk about a yard away, and phoned my doctor. I listened.

"Yes, Dr., I just treated your patient Heidi Kaplan for her nosebleeds, and based on the severity of her bleeding, I do not recommend her bearing down. If she were to start to bleed during a birth of this type, well . . . . it'd be bad".

I closed my eyes and prayed for the room to stop spinning.

Straight back to my OB to commence and figure out the plan of action. My nurse brought me back into a room and informed me of the following:

Due to your nosebleeds, the fact that you have some excess amniotic fluid, and that the baby took a pooie inside of you, we're going to deliver you tonight. By C-section. You are scheduled for 5:30pm, and need to be there at 3:30 for prep.

I look at my watch. It is 2:45pm.

"Um, um um um. OK. I need to call my husband. Is this seriously happening? Tonight. Are you sure? It's hot in here. What kind of blood pressure medication can you prescribe me?"

"What?"

"Blood pressure. I've never felt it so high in my life. Can you give me something. It's hot. Oh my Jesus."

I walked out of the office once again, gave my Mom a very telling glance, and phoned my husband.

 "Baby? We're gonna have this baby."

Within 45 minutes, I had gone back to my Mom's house, took a few deep breaths with her, gained some semblance of composure, turned around and went to the hospital. Josh met me there within the hour, as did our families (Andy left for Arizona from California right away), and our good friend Shannon.

I was in a complete state of shock at the turn of events of the afternoon. Wasn't I supposed to go to my 39 week appointment, then get some fro-yo with Mom and swing by Walgreens for that new mascara that quadruples each lash? Wasn't that the plan? Ha, plans!

At 7:45pm, I was taken into the OR and given the epidural, after which Josh was allowed into the room and kept his face right up next to mine the entire time. My body was completely numb, but I could feel myself rocking side to side, up and down, with each maneauver of my OB to 'get on in there'. And at 8:19 pm, the staff urged Josh to look over the tarp at our son, emerging into the world. Our boy. His cry was like a drug, sending me into a state of pure euphoria, and to be perfectly honest, feeling extremely proud of him. Of me. Of it all.

"Is he ok? What's he like? Is he alright? Is everything good?"

"Honey, he's beautiful! He's perfect! He's BLONDE!"

Josh brought him over to my face, and it happened: I kissed his cheek, smelled his baby breath, and fell madly, hopelessly, overwhelmingly in LOVE.

And there you have it. Max Kaplan. Real human being. Nice to meet ya.

We spent the next four days at the hospital, wrapping our heads around our new roles as parents, learning to feed him and experiencing our first bouts of sleeplessness and petrification. I spent those four days staring at him, at each little finger and toe, all his little blood vessels, hair follicles, ears, nose, butt. And I couldn't believe it; any of it. I wanted to stop time and breathe him in so as to never lose this moment and the feeling of holding my newborn baby. He would never again be this small and I already felt him growing up too fast. Thank you, hormones.

Since we arrived home last Saturday, Josh and I have had to learn so much, so fast, and implement it immediately. Preparing for this baby has been akin to learning a foreign language by purchasing the Rosetta Stone, but leaving it in the saran wrap on the coffee table in that room of your house that you never go into. It is only when the baby is born that you need to dive into the program and exercise every brain cell you've collected over the span of your life, throw it all together, all at once, and switch to speaking this new language exclusively.

I'd like to take the time to thank all of our family and friends. You have been so unconditionally supportive of and excited for us, and you each show your love in your own, beautifully unique way. We have SO much gratitude for everything each of you has given us and it has surely shaped our experience of pregnancy and the journey into parenthood.

We are so happy, so busy, and so, so tired. Within the course of one week, the pleasure one might experience during a hot stone massage on the beaches of Maui is now reserved for brushing my teeth. This has been the most surreal experience of our lives. We are infused with such love and infatuation for Max, and run on that love like it's fuel.





Meeting Max

 

Add caption

Max's first burp in his whole life

                                    





Max loves bath time!



Drumroll, please . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Ladies and gentlemen, it is with immense, heart-swelling pride and pleasure (and a heck of an incision), that I announce the arrival of "our little bundle", "booger", "nugget", the inspiration and epicenter of this entire blog, and now our entire lives, "Baby K":

~Max Samuel Kaplan~

Born 8.2.11 at 8:19pm

7 pounds, 15 ounces   .   20.5 inches

 



Many more postings to come on the adventure of labor and delivery. And boy, was it ever . . . . . .

What the deuce?

For this post, I'm going to tell you a little story. It is of no real consequence, has seemingly little to do with the bun in my oven, and may only serve as a peek into my daily goings on, now that I'm so close to popping (39 weeks tomorrow, what what!). But it matters to me.

The other week, I started to think about the birth of our baby boy in an entirely new way: not so much the physical pain of it, how it was going to happen, WHEN it was going to happen, fun with needles, etc., but something of an entirely different priority . . . .

Making sure mama be lookin' good for them first photos.

Needless to say, the birthing experience will leave me with a healthy glow, a radiance, if you will. ALRIGHT , that's just sweat, ok? SWEAT. And my hair will be carelessly tossed into a messy nub of nest, flopping side to side atop my head with every contraction. So if that's the case, I'd at least prefer said nub to be absent of those Sarah Jessica Parker roots that make their appearance every 4 weeks. And if I'm to tackle those roots, it's fitting that a mani-pedi comes with the territory (husband reads post, rolls eyes extravagantly). Nothing like some funky fingers wrapped around a pristine, cherub baby body to screw up a photo.

So I called to book an appointment to have my digits prettified. Scanning my daily planner and sporting a furrowed brow deep in thought, I knew I needed to bank on a date for this service. I figured the little nugget wouldn't come too early, but I needed to make sure the appointment was also far enough along that I wouldn't be due for a touch-up come first push. I made the appointment for late July: not too early, not too late, but just right. A Goldie Locks of the 21st century. Ouch, that's corny.

I went to the salon and got my toes and nails done a pretty pink color, especially since my world has turned to every shade of blue in existence. Afterward, I waited an extra 10 minutes before leaving to make sure they were good and lacquered dry, then left feeling just darling. Upon arriving back home and putting some things away, I looked down, and I saw it. IT. The unthinkable.

My polish chipped. (Read: polish as in nail color, not Polish as in sausage. I couldn't explain that.)

Now please, family, friends! Don't minimize this window, or heaven forbid all-together close it! It's not about the pettiness of the polish. There's something deeper to be said about the smudging of a nail mere hours after professional application - a defeating experience all on its own, am I right, ladies? Rather, as I stared at the crescent-shaped chippage and severe lack of "Virgin Orchid" at the tip of the offending finger, an overwhelming sense of peace fell over me, the message being quite simple, but just as necessary and completely applicable to the arrival of our little meatball:

I can plan all I want, meticulously plot out everything under the sun. In the end, imperfections and mishaps will pop out wherever they choose along the way. I have no control over this - and it's beautiful.

So whether I make my appointments according to the exact alignment of the stars, or avoid harsh cleaning chemicals at all costs; let my nails dry an extra 10 minutes, or organize and put away all baby items according to size and developmental age; delicately take out the keys from my purse so as to not smudge a thing, or vigorously take copious notes at every Birthing Basics class  . . . . .things are going to happen as they were written to all along, and the key is to know this ahead of time and roll with those punches; honor those punches. Because it's those "mishaps" that shape your experience and makes it all your own, makes it YOUR story to tell. The bigger plan will always play out. "Hey Mom, you just outfitted me in my brand new infant sleeper? Well now I'm gonna barf on it."

The only thing we can do in life is keep an extra onesie on hand, and enjoy the journey - chipped nails and all.

Dropped it like it's hot

Baby dropped in the middle of the night! It felt like a bowling ball sinking into my pelvis (ohhhh sweet baby if you ever read this, you are SO much cuter than a bowling ball - even those swirly marble-looking ones), and I was almost immediately sure of what was happening. Today's 37 week OB appointment confirmed it. My checkup showed definite progress and that things are right on track. Baby K is on his way :)



Not me