7 Quick Takes Friday!


Lincoln, right before The Night From Hell

So I’m sure you’re all dying to know how my appointments with the LC and the ENT went, right? They went great. Lincoln’s frenulum, as it turns out, did not reattach, which bums me out because it means he’s not actually a Time Lord (lame) but he will be able to eat and not scream forever (maybe) and we won’t have to transition to formula. So I suppose those things are better than him being a Time Lord. Not really.

Actually little Lincoln just didn’t know how to latch properly. Sparing you the gory details…nah, just kidding. Where’s the fun in that? The kid has been “nipple feeding” (sorry men) for his whole life. The LC said he looked like Maggie Simpson. She was also astounded that I wasn’t bleeding/crying/screaming/dying. She said she’s never seen a mother with a baby who latched like that not have lots of pain and tissue damage. I told her that I’ve been breastfeeding since 2008 so basically I have no nerve endings left in my nipples and they’re about as sensitive (and roughly the same texture) as a baseball glove.  Skipping right over that over-sharey moment, she said he’s only gained weight because of my superoveractive letdown reflex, and showed me some neat tricks to get him to latch right. And latch right he did, and ate a ton, and then slept for 4.5 hours.

4.5! Hours!!!! In a row!!!!!!!

Finally, thought I to myself, finally, we have worked things out, and he will be a happy, well-fed, unfussy baby from now on.

Then he woke up and screamed for six hours straight.

No kidding, the Ogre and I took turns walking, rocking and bouncing him all night. Occasionally he would doze and his screams would subside into a pathetic “ahhhhhuuuuhhaaahhuuhhh” but then if we moved half an inch he’d wake back up and commence with the wailing.

Multiple theories abound as to why this happened. He’s terribly congested and he had some seriously upset tummy diapers today, so I’m going with the theory that the congestion is draining into his stomach and making it hurt. I dunno. But he slept last night, thank God, so. Only time will tell. I’m pretty sure at this point that he’s just going to be The Fussiest Baby In The Land, and we’ll have to deal.



The biggest problem with his screaming-all-night thing is that was the night before Charlotte’s party. At 4:30 am I began to think that we’d have to cancel the party or move it back, because there was no way we could decorate and host a party with no sleep and this baby trying to break all the glass in the world with only the power of his voice.

Enter: my amazing husband, who, despite having 500 pages of blue books to grade, tucked me into bed with Lincoln at 8 am when Angry Baby finally fell asleep, and spent the next two hours cleaning and decorating both the cake (which I mercifully had the foresight to make during Lincoln’s 4-hour power nap) and the house. I woke up at 10:30 to this:

and this:

Obviously it was uncut at the time

and a package from Yaya (the Ogre’s mom) containing this:

The clothes, not the child

Once again, the Ogre saved the day, and even stayed on his weary feet long enough to take Angry Lincoln while I showered and to help the little girls with the necklaces we let them make while Lincoln mercifully took a brief nap.

The party was a success. Oh, and I decided around 5 am that less was definitely more, and scrapped all the more elaborate food plans in favor of heart-shaped peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches, tea, pink lemonade, and cake. And all was still right with the world.


Wanna hear something funny? One of my neighbors, who was at the party yesterday, invited me to come to a free Zumba class that she and some other moms take at the dance studio on Thursday mornings.

Wanna hear something even funnier? I actually agreed.

In case you don’t know why this is hilarious, read this.

Now you can laugh at me. I’m sure I’ll write a hysterical post next Thursday afternoon and then you can laugh some more. Here’s to standing near the back and behind someone!


I hope you don’t mind that I lifted this picture from your blog, Jen!

Oh, guess what we watched last night, thanks to the streaming wonder of the internet? The first part of Jen’s reality show, Minor Revisions! It was so awesome.

A few thoughts: first, her hair is awesome, and I totally want red hair. Second, I want to live in Austin. Third, one time I almost stepped on a scorpion. Scorpions are the worst.

Maybe some serious ones now? I thought the format of the show was great. Serious moments about her conversion interspersed with general hilarity is definitely the way to go. Also, the moment when she totally freaked like a girl about the wasp was my favorite, because the Ogre cracked up and I started jumping up and down going, “See? See?!?! Not all adults are courageous in the face of flying, stinging insects! Other grown-up women act like total children too! I’m not alone!”


If I were Jen, I would have been freaked about someone filming me genuflecting. I guess it’s a convert thing, but I get paranoid and self-aware when I genuflect. I’m always sure I’m doing it wrong and that people are staring, and then sometimes I forget and then I really feel like people are staring, and sometimes I can’t tell if there’s a lit candle at the altar or an adoration chapel somewhere else if we’re in a new church and I do a little dance-of-uncertainty next to the pew, which usually results in me bobbing awkwardly and crossing myself quickly while my eyes dart around to see if anyone else is or is not genuflecting.

It’s quite stressful. I don’t think I could handle the pressure of having it filmed, But Jen did a great job, so maybe it’s not a convert thing, maybe it’s just a me thing.



It’s December 14, and I have not bought a single Christmas present for anyone at all. Nor have we gotten a Christmas tree. I did set out the nativity set, but since we lost Mary and baby Jesus in the move, it’s not quite as festive as I’d like. But honestly, it’s really hard to get into the Christmas spirit when it’s 80 degrees.

Plus, palm trees. I hate palm trees. I’m cursed with palm trees, first in Vegas and now here. They follow me everywhere, and nothing makes me angrier than a stupid palm tree. I want to rip out all their leaves and punch them on their stupid bendy trunks. I even wrote a poem once about how much I hate palm trees. At least here they don’t put Christmas lights in them, like they did in Vegas. That was just blasphemous.

And ugly.


Not that I have issues or anything.

Okay, go see Jen. She’s decompressing by staring at a wall today, but she’s still hosting quick takery because she’s a total sport. (Personally, I’d be decompressing by shotgunning tequila, but to each her own. Also, she’s pregnant, so she’s probably making the right call.) Tell her how great she was in the combox!

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