sorry I’ve been a bad blogger…

…but things have been a little hectic here.

Conor had a week off, which was lovely. Then he had to go back to work and I was on my own with the kids, which was…busy. So, no blog. But I’ll catch you up now.

During Conor’s at-home week, we planned a one-day outing that turned out to be a positive orgy of consumerism. First, we went up to Laurel and had lunch at Linny’s Deli (which was Mary’s very first restaurant when she was less than a week old). They remembered us–indeed, made fun of Conor for always getting a Reuben, thereby shaming him into ordering the chicken club–and were surprised by the existence of Wesley.

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Wesley thought it was great because he thinks anywhere is great that isn’t his car seat.

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p.s. Note my crooked broken glasses. I’m definitely banking on the “she has a newborn, cut her some slack” view on style.

Mary thought it was great because they have french fries there.

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Then we went to Daedalus Books, a great discount bookstore that has all kinds of interesting stuff, where we did some major book-budget damage (triple digits even though it’s a remainder book store–yikes). Mary was convinced that each copy of this Maisie book was different.

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We stopped at Target to pick up a different style of bottle for poor colicky Wesley.

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Then Mary took an unexpected nap in the car.

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Then we went to Trader Joe’s to get some peanut butter pretzels, which are my middle-of-the-night, still-nursing-this-voracious-and-needy-baby snack of choice.

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Then we went to My Organic Market to buy Mary a stainless steel water bottle so that she can be hip and cancer-free like Mommy and Daddy.

Then we realized that I bought the wrong size of nipple for Wesley’s bottle and went back to Target, where I exchanged it for the proper newborn/super-slow variety.

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Then we went to Corridor Wine and stocked up on wine for our parents’ visits (and Guinness, which is good for lactating moms–heck, it’s good for everybody–the BBC said so).

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Then we went to Pasta Plus for dinner. It sounds totally like a strip mall pasta place, and looks like one, too:

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But it isn’t. It’s fantastic. Really, really good food. If Liz ever visits us we will go there. I had “ravioli burro,” which is ravioli (I think it’s mascarpone inside) in a butter/garlic/something unidentifiable sauce, and which is so good, it’s criminal. “Burro” means “butter” in Italian–not “donkey,” in case you were worried.

By this time, Mary was starting to fade and began to act crazy and then snuggle with Daddy in alternating phases:

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So we decided that was enough and headed home.

We were, of course, exhausted by our day and I don’t think we did anything much the rest of the time Conor was off, aside from visiting Luke and Elaine on Friday night and going to church (which is not exactly exciting in a good way but can sometimes be extremely energetic nonetheless, depending on Mary’s mood that day).

This week, Conor has been working and I have been at home with both kids. Dumbass Statement of the Week: it’s harder to have two kids than one. However, I can see the prospect eventually of them entertaining each other (Mary is definitely interested in Wesley, which means that she will probably play with him when he is big enough). As of now, she helps me burp him by tapping his back extremely tentatively, and she shakes up his bottles for me. (I am nursing him and supplementing, which is an enormous PITA, but it does give her something to do that seems like she’s really involved.)

I think Wesley has reflux. He is cranky. Very cranky. And it’s not like he’s just being angsty for no reason; he obviously hurts. We changed bottles, which helped a bit, and yesterday we switched to a different formula, which I hope will help. I’m trying everything I can think of to make him more comfortable, but all the same I’ve only gotten 10 hours of sleep in the last three nights combined, which is a non-sustainable lifestyle for me. And, I’m sure, for Wesley. There is medication for it if the formula change doesn’t help, so I’ll consider that if it doesn’t. I’ve spent a lot of time with Wesley in the baby carrier, rocking for hours. Good thing my parents gave Wesley a chair as a welcome-baby present; he’s definitely using it. Mary wasn’t a cranky or colicky baby, so I’m new to that aspect of child-rearing. (She just spat up voluminously, projectile-style, every day or two, just to keep us on our toes. She seemed to find Conor’s boxer shorts particularly nausea-inducing and hit those every time she got the chance.)

Anyway, he looks like this often:

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But then at other times he’s pretty cute:

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