Training Day(s)

Good sleepers are born, not made. Olive, unlike most babies, hates to sleep. Instead, she prefers to spend her free time practicing her Indian accent and watching "Keeping Up With the Kardashians." I kid. That's what I do in my free time. No, really. Olive is strangely really anti-napping, and in the evening, she's like the J.Lo of babies - requiring a truck load of assistance and amenities to fall asleep. In spite of my husband and I providing a abundance of sleep-inducing goodies, the munchkin still has difficulty going the eff to bed. The little monster needs to be rocked and held. She needs to sleep in our room - more specifically, on our bed. Le hubby would sometimes complain while I, deep down, adore having her sleep with us. She's a great cuddler! But now that she's a crazy crawler, in order to ensure her safety, I've agreed to put an end to her bad habits and our mother-daughter co-dependency. Olive, mommy's sorry, but your sleep-related privileges are coming to an end.

Le hubby and I began sleep training last week. In the evening, we plopped the munchkin into her crib (situated in our bedroom as it is where she sleeps best), shut the door and left! We promised each other not to "save" the baby until the next morning - 6am at earliest. So much easier said than done. Olive woke up about two times during the night, and each time I heard her crying for help, I wanted to cry. I'd reach for the baby monitor to see what she was up to, and as expected, there she was, standing in her crib, hollering for dear life.

                                  

Ermahgerd! If she cried for an hour, I was awake for that hour. Last week was rough.

Le hubby was able to sleep through the commotion just fine. Dads. Yes, well, we're in week two, and I'm slowly getting used to the sound of her "self-soothing." And Olive? She's actually starting to get used to sleeping on her own. Sure, she still wakes up at least two times during the night to scream for help, but the duration of her crying has definitely shortened from 1.5 hours to 30 minutes. This may not be much to you parents with good self-soothers, but in our household, this calls for a juice box toast. I'm so proud of my munchkin. Give her two more weeks, and perhaps we'll have this sleeping thing down... Here's hoping.

* Photo of Olive looking unimpressed was taken by Monica of Shoots & Giggles. 

Are We There Yet?

With less than two weeks left to complete my thesis, I'm starting to feel panicky. I feel like I'm running a marathon that's never going to end, and it's an awful feeling! Beans wants to help, but the canine has no opposable thumbs. After Effects requires them.

On my own and freaking out. Should any of you encounter me in these next two weeks, reconsider saying "Hello." It's like that Peter Cetera Chicago song, "Look Away".  

"If you see me walking by, and the tears are in my eye, look away... baby, look away."

Seriously. I just might bite your head off. GRRRRR.

*Above: A sneak peek of one of many inappropriate scenes in my thesis. didn't bother to allow the computer to render properly, so D'OH... the quality of these two images is bound to be totes shitty. deal with it!)

This or That?

THIS: SELLARSBROOK

or

THAT: USHAK

For le hubby's man cave. 

Help me decide :)

Why So Serious?

"zou bisou bisou..." (translation: "oh, kisses, kisses...")

nora kogan's man ray lips bracelet in coral. yours for the bargain price of $585. available here.

i lust after it the way beans lusts after bananas and milk bones.

nektar de stagni's happy pearl earrings. *tee-hee*

a family heirloom for $345. available here.

Floored

the berber.

she's light.

she's neutral.

she's got the potential to be manly. 

 

      

the ponti.

she's hypnotic.

she's bold.

she can be super duper manly.

 

the ushak.

she's versatile.

she's moroccan.

she's kinda-sorta-not-really manly.

with the arrival of olive 7+ months ago, le hubby's man-cave took a high-dive from being a space with great dude heaven potential to becoming glorified storage room. (will post photos one of the "before" one of these days). it's been in need of a makeover since our move 1.5 years ago, and well, it's high time that i grab the proverbial horns of this baby and do it justice. i'm starting ground-up. literally. 

some flooring options in consideration.

Mr. Sandman

Baby sneezes are super cute. But I think overdosed on 'em yesterday and caught the munchkin's cold. I have what she had. Snot running down one nostril. Attractive, yeah?

Yes, well, better me than her. She's feeling a lot better today, but I'm feeling like a pile of doggy turd. I haven't slept well for two days straight (try sleep training a sick infant), and now that I'm completely congested (even my ears are stuffed up) I do not foresee a solid night's sleep tonight...

Looking forward to le hubby's return from New York. I could use some back-up right about now!

Ah-CHOO.

I'd been successfully shielding her from harm for as long as I could... but last night, mommy-the-protector failed. The munchkin has caught a slight cold. (I blame the A/C.) Watching her in discomfort makes me sad. To think... this is just a runny nose!

Poor chublette. Because her nose was running (note: only from one of her itty-bitty nostrils), she wasn't able to catch a good shut-eye. Which means neither did I. Check out our early-morning "party" at 4:30 am.

Top: My mini-me being needy. She's like a baby sloth... clinging on.
Bottom: Olive sneezing. I know it's wrong to enjoy them, but I do. Baby sneezes are so cute.

Feel better, little one.

Girl, Look at That Body

It's never too late, people. NEVER.

At the ripe age of 32 (going on 33), I've finally committed myself to a fitness regimen. Can you believe it? This sedentary mama who has spent countless evenings sitting in bed watching The Biggest Loser whilst munching on blocks of cheese (true story) joined THIS Crossfit box a couple months ago and *gasp* have strangely, gotten into it. Since joining, muscles I never knew I had are confused and sore (see above). Distances I never knew I could run have been ran. (Seriously, the last time I ran was in the 90s!) And well, I never spew stuff like what I'm about to spew, but... I am really proud of myself. I'm becoming physically and mentally stronger with each work out, accomplishing tasks I never imagined achieving, and that's like, totally radical.

As if positive-mental-attitude mumbo-jumbo isn't weird and out-of-character enough, I signed up for the LA Half Marathon taking place downtown on Halloween. Losing my mind? Yeah, probably. Le hubby signed up with me, so we'll see how the power of love manifests itself day of. (Visualizing le hubby carrying me over the finish line on piggyback. Ahhh... how romantic.)

Under Pressure

Most folks I know have a bucket list. You know, the list of crap you want to achieve or attain before you croak? 

Since college, my bucket list has consisted of getting a puppy, making baby, and writing and illustrating a children's book. 

With Beans and Olive in tow, I've got one and two taken care of. But the children's book? I'm working on it. The moment I turn in my thesis (gaaaaaah, it's taking forever), you can best bet that I'll be grinding out something wonderfully strange. I've been brainstorming a bunch. Let's just say it ain't easy coming up with a satisfying story that can be told within 25 pages! Lots of self-editing. NOT my forte.

On a side note, my friend, Mary Lai is currently working to fund a kick-ass comic anthology via Kickstarter. Click HERE to back the project up! The deadline for artists to submit work is tomorrow. Naturally, I started and finished my submission today. See above. You may want to click on the image to see it enlarged. That is, unless you have bionic eyeballs and can read micro-type.

Show and Tell

Final peek at my thesis.

Hopefully, the next time you see anything new from my short, you'll be watching it in full!

Decided to go with sepia tint backgrounds as colored backgrounds got distracting. 

Cardboard + After Effects + a little help from my friends = MAGIC

Old Dog, New Tricks

Those who know me know that I am somewhat of a dinosaur when it comes to technology.

I still: 

Cut checks,

shoot on cameras that require film, 

send snail mail letters, 

and read actual, physical books.

Much like a grandparent, when there's a choice, I gravitate towards the analog.

That said, I am shocked that my friends, Alexis and Jeff, have somehow managed to teach me to use After Effects with success...

Above: A peek at what's to come. 

My thesis is due end-August, so come end-August, whether I like it or not, I'm going to have something to show. *raise the roof* Below: Another test shot. This one with the Mama.

Au Naturel

Seen Lee of Australia (AP Images)

She didn't leave the summer Olympics with a medal, but she definitely made an impression.

I want to braid that shit.

Kohei Uchimura of Japan (Reuters)

Power pits going for the gold.

They match his 'do!

Kohei Uchimura of Japan (Reuters)

Too good to share just one.

Another shot of the armed and dangerous winner.

I am obsessed with the display of arm pit hair in the Olympics. 

Don't know what I'm going to do with myself once the summer games come to a close.

Let There Be Light

my brilliant friend, jeff is teaching me how to light in after effects. 

check out this sample of what he's going to teach me to do.

RAD, no?

he did this. i did not. 

but i will learn to replicate his genius ways this evening. 

Rolling in the Deep

Hehehe.

Here I go again. Getting downright philosophical. It's Thursday. Bear with me.

* source of this b+w graphic here * 

Did I Ask You?

So have you heard? 

Mayor Bloomberg loves breastfeeding.
Read here, here, and here.

Of course he does. 

He's a man.
And he doesn't have working tits.

Starting September 3rd, New York City is going to start urging hospitals to keep infant formula locked up and treat it like medication. Breast milk is probably the best option for babies, but it makes me so sad that American women feed into this culture that has made the failure or lack of desire to breastfeed seem like a shameful affair.

I struggled to breastfeed Olive when she was first born. At the hospital, my milk supply did not let down immediately, yet the nurses insisted that I not supplement the baby with formula. And so, Olive starved. By the third day of our stay at the hospital, my munchkin had lost over ten percent of her at-birth body weight. She was constantly crying because she was running on empty. By the time my milk did let down, she impatiently attacked my nipples and shook them like a piranha does to prey. Needless to say, Olive's latching technique was a FAIL, and there we were... a depressed new mother with an abdominal wound (c-section), massively engorged tits filled with unaccessible milk due to clogged nipples, and of course, a wailing baby.

My attempt to breastfeed continued at home. I provided breast milk with the aid of a pump upon our return home from the hospital. I felt Olive deserved the best. (She still does.) But even then, extracting the little milk that I had was a total ordeal. I was in constant pain, and every single day, something would go wrong. Open wounds on my nipples. Engorged breasts. Mastitis. You name it, I experienced it. With the help of a lactation consultant (yes, that is an actual occupation) and a hospital grade pump (I rented one), I pummeled through two months and was able to consistently provide three-quarters of her days' meals. (I pumped every 2 hours for two months. I was a slave to the my Medela.) The other quarter of her daily intake consisted of Enfamil. I just didn't have enough milk. Crazy Chinese soups chock full o' pigs' feet and chicken feet didn't work... But you know what?  I had tried my best.

In all honesty, I was so incredibly relieved that I physically wasn't able to provide enough milk for her, because enduring a boob malfunction every gosh-darn day was just too much for me to handle. Being forced to wean Olive off boob juice was, how should I put this... liberating.

Which brings me back to Mayor Bloomberg and his love for boob juice. I agree. It's the best. But until he experiences the hardships of breastfeeding and until he squeezes a baby out of his vagina, he needs to shut his pinhole. 

                          

Float On

Traveling with an infant is difficult, but as le hubby and I have proven, it's not impossible. We've been breaking our little one in ever so slowly (with the help of an Ergo carrier, iPhone, and take-off/landing feed fests).

So far, she's already been to San Francisco and Minnesota, and no fellow passengers suffered along the way.

That said... next stop? 

MAINE!!!

Our little family's heading East end-September to enjoy a proper fall.

We booked the above-pictured charming cottage at Cabot Cove in Kennebunkport!

Are cartoon hearts pulsating from your eye-sockets yet? 

They are from mine. 

Titillate

Another test shot from my thesis, Boo Hoo Baby.

Will be drawing in all wrinkles After Effects once the darn thing get animated.

Mama needs some wrinkles.

Hump Day Ha Ha

Spit up my breakfast when I saw this comic posted on Facebook this morning.

Happy Wednesday, to all you surviving parents.

Happy Wednesday to everyone else as well!

(Source: The New Yorker)