In case you didn't realize from my last blog, it's really hot in Las Vegas. We never did get used to the dryness; I think we need more than 4 days to grow humps on our backs like the camels do. It also threw off our timing for EC'ing dramatically. At home, I think I'm pretty in sync with his schedule. I can successfully potty him 90% of the time during the day and often times have dry diapers through out the night. In Vegas though, he hardly ever peed because it was so dry. After every squirm (which is usually a good indicator) I'd put him on his potty and think, "He's gotta go! He must have to go. It's been two hours." But then, NOTHING! So the poor fellow experienced most of his first visit at his grandparents house while sitting on the pot. I hope he didn't think it was attached to his butt.
The family was incredibly supportive of our EC'ing efforts and jumped right in trying to potty him. Of course, with Kien's timing so far off they didn't have a lot of success either. This is unfortunate because I know that when I first started learning how to EC I would get very discouraged when I had a lot of misses. But everybody seemed to take it in stride and I felt comforted to know that we had their support. In fact, Grandma and Grandpa got peed on more than once. I like to think of it as a nice initiation. But alas, on our last day both Grandma and Auntie got two pees!
Sunday night my hubby and I went out on our date. This was the first time for Kien to be babysat. So, as I had griped about before, I still hated the breast pump but I had to do it. The dairy cow went to work. It was really tricky pumping on this trip. Normally, I overproduce milk. I'm always looking forward to that next opportunity to shrink an extra bra cup size smaller after a good, long nursing session. My bras fit again, the lumps are gone, and I look less lopsided. This glorious moment lasts for about an hour until I get full again. However, since it was so dry in Vegas I needed to make sure that Kien was drinking enough to stay hydrated. This meant that he sucked me dry. Then after his nursing I would try to pump. Ha! The image is pretty clear but in case you're having problems: it's like trying to syphon an ounce of water out of an empty old, saggy, leather water pouch. You know, the kind cowboys (or Indians?) used to use in the old days. This is a pretty good description of what my breasts have turned into.
After a few attempts, I managed to collect 4.5 ounces. I knew this would not be enough so we decided to make our dinner reservation at 9pm so that I could try to get him to sleep before we left. That way, in case he woke up he would only want to nurse back to sleep and therefore not drink that much. This sounded like a good theory at the time.
We left with full confidence that the boy was in good hands. In fact, I did get him to fall asleep before we left~ knowing full well that this slumber was not going to last long. But I didn't want to let anyone else in on the secret. I figured they would soon be thrown into an hour long tantrum so I might as well let them enjoy the silence while it was there. So, I just left with a big smile and said, "Good luck!"
Our dinner was nice. Very nice actually. In retrospect, I don't think I enjoyed it enough. I should have reveled in the fact that I was eating a hot meal. I can't believe that I didn't stop once to let that sink in. It's probably because I ate my meal in about 7 minutes. I habitually swallowed my food whole. On some deeper level, my body was anticipating having my meal interrupted for a feeding, changing, burping, or some other divine baby task. Despite that, I still enjoyed my first night out sans baby. We had wine, we discussed things other than the boy, and we were sickeningly sweet and in love. Honestly, I didn't worry once about how Kien was doing.
When we got back, we got the full report. Apparently, 45 minutes after we left then the boy awoke. And he was angry. The bottle feeding of 4.5 ounces was barely enough to whet his appetite. So, naturally, he was even more angry. Lucky for him, he has some baby chub that prevents him from starving to death but Grandpa had to perform every trick in the book for 1.5 hours before he tired himself out. Go Grandpa!!! While I knew he was fine, I still hate thinking about his little tears rolling down his little face.
Aside from our monumental date, we also witnessed Kien sitting up by himself for the first time! It was really exciting. Yes, my boy is getting bigger. The new fun thing is rocking wildly on his butt. Today I made the big mistake of sitting him down on his playmat and thinking he will sit up by himself for the next 90 seconds while I did something. I turned just in time to see him fall down backwards and hear his little head clunk onto the floor. Boy, did he cry. I guess I got a little overly ambitious about his new capabilities. Sorry, Kien. Again, tears streaming down his face. Luckily I had Sesame Street on so Big Bird made him laugh through his tears.
Oh, the 300 mile car ride home? Piece of cake. Except for the lengthy four hour pit stop in Barstow (also 110 degrees) to give us all a good stretch, Kien slept peacefully in the back seat. That's my boy!
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