So, Willa stopped breast feeding the other day. She was a day shy of 13 months.

The strange part is that she stopped cold turkey. She breast fed like she normally does on Friday night before bed, and then Saturday morning she refused. She acted like I was trying to pour castor oil down her throat. I thought maybe it was because she is teething, but she went the whole day without breast feeding. Tomorrow will be one week.

Now, I know everyone says this about their kids, but Willa really is an unusual baby.
So, it did not really surprise me that she quit like that, but I was concerned.
When i called the pediatrician to tell him he said "that's weird".
I can only get her to drink 4-6 ounces of soy milk a and she's supposed to have about 24 ounces.
Because of this she is eating like a 16 year old football player. I can't give her enough food.

She eats 3 huge meals a day and at least 2 snacks. Everything she eats is organic and healthy, so I'm not worried about her getting enough nutrition, but I am worried about her getting enough fat. The only dairy product I was willing to give her was yogurt, but she doesn't like it- which is funny, because she likes almost everything.
I'm trying to give her lots of avocado and olive oil.

On a personal note-
I have mixed emotions about the breast feeding being over.
I will miss the convenience of it. I will miss having something to soothe my child with. The insane, worse case scenario part of me will miss having a back up food supply for my kid if we are ever stuck on a plane for 11 hours or trapped in our car in a snow storm. I will miss knowing that she is getting awesome nutrients and anti-bodies. I'm really happy that I breast fed my child for a year, especially considering I wasn't sure if I'd be able to do it at all.

How does the other part of me feel about it?

HALLELUJAH!

Willa has not taken a bottle since she was about 4 months old. That is totally my fault. When my dad was sick and right after he died, there was a period where I didn't give Willa a bottle for a couple of weeks. For those of you who have never breast fed I'll let you in on a little secret. Having someone give the baby a bottle is not as convenient as it sounds. Every time someone gives the baby a bottle your breasts still need to be drained, so you have to pump. When I was really busy it was just easier for me to give Willa the boob. No one was around helping me- my husband was working a lot- and if I gave her a bottle I would then have to pump- and find a way to occupy her while I was doing it, and I didn't have time for that. So, she went a couple of weeks without a bottle. And when things settled down and I thought it might be nice to spend an hour or two away from Willa, she refused to take a bottle. REFUSED. believe me we tried all different types of bottles, but Willa is a stubborn child, and I was too tired and emotionally drained to listen to her scream, so I gave her the boob. I had no idea how I was going to wean her, and I was afraid she would never give up the boob.

*(Hey new moms or moms to be- PLEASE give your baby a bottle. Once breast feeding is established- usually around 2-3 weeks- there is no reason you can't give your baby a bottle. Nipple confusion is a myth. Being able to leave your baby alone for more than a few minutes is important for your mental health. Please learn from my mistake and give your baby a bottle!)

So, yep, for 8-9 months it was all me. All boobs, all the time.
Which meant that I could never really go anywhere for very long.
And the insane irrational part of me would worry that I would get into a car accident and die and then WHAT WOULD HAPPEN!?
Exclusively breast feeding made me a prisoner. I couldn't be away from my child for more than a few hours. And breast feeding was part of Willa's bed time routine, so I could never go anywhere at night before 8pm which was really limiting.
I had no idea how we were going to get Willa to go to sleep without breast feeding, but that first night we just put her in her crib and she cried for maybe 2 minutes and then went to sleep. Just like that.

So, now I have this new sense of freedom.

I don't have to be there when she wakes up in the morning! I don't have to be there for nap time! I can go to a 7:30 movie! The world is my oyster!

I think maybe this is an opportunity for me to focus on myself a little bit. If I can even remember how to do that.

Posted by torrie at 02:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

Today I am sad. I was sitting here listening to Willa playing with my mother in the other room- she was giggling and having a great time. I was thinking back to when she was smaller- just a few months old- there was a word I would say and she would instantly giggle. I can't remember what the word was.

Willa is just a little over a year and I'm already forgetting the little details.
I curse myself for not writing everything down. I curse my laziness.

I just feel like life is flying by, and I wish it would slow down. I'm not living life to the fullest. I'm not savoring the small moments.

My kid is waving to everyone. And taking steps. And saying new words every day. I feel like I was just pregnant yesterday.

I feel like I'm going to blink and it's going to be her first day of kindergarten. And then I'm going to blink again and she's going to be going to the prom.

Life is flying by and I don't feel like I'm doing a good enough job of documenting it.

I think the move is making me sentimental.

Also, yesterday would have been my dad's 71st birthday.

I hope the stress I am feeling now doesn't crush me.

Posted by torrie at 11:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Oh. Hi!

Sorry about all of the dust in here.

Where have I been?

BUSY.

Holy Crap.

We are moving in 1 1/2 weeks.

Have you ever tried packing while taking care of a toddler? It is virtually impossible.

And yes. A toddler. In my absence from here, Willa turned one and has started taking a few unassisted steps.

If I was a better mother I would write a whole long post about my child's first year and how AWESOME she is, but MY GOD THE PACKING.

Also, lots of photography related projects. Including, pictures I shot for a book. (!)

Have I mentioned the packing? SO MUCH PACKING.
I am desperately trying to get rid of stuff by giving it to friends, family, and charity, but MY GOD SO MUCH STUFF.

The good thing about living in an apartment building is that I can steal all of the boxes people are getting rid of. SCORE!

If I never see another cardboard box in my life I'M OK WITH THAT.

Also, does anybody need some staples? Because, and I'm not sure how this has happened, we seem to have accumulated more boxes of staples than your local office supply store keeps in stock.
I think it's time for me to come up with some new and exciting ways to use staples. Cuff links? Earrings? Keeping my kids arms pinned to her side when I'm trying to wipe her face?

I have so much more to write- like about how I'm freaking out about leaving Manhattan, about how I'm trying to be more of a responsible adult (Ew! Gross!), about how I'm dealing with my dad's death (it's normal to have bad dreams EVERY NIGHT, right?), about what an asshole Mookie (my cat) is, about my panic attack this morning when I had to write a check for two months rent for the new place after I had already paid for one month, about how moving was supposed to save us money, BUT IT'S TOTALLY NOT.
- But, I just can't find the time.

Next time I move I think I'm going to go on vacation two weeks before and hope that magical fairies will pack everything for me.

Posted by torrie at 02:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Posted by torrie at 10:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

I've been in a really shitty mood lately.

Like, REALLY shitty.

Like, stereotypical, fire breathing, crazy, PMS'ing shitty.

I woke up this morning with the intention of being in a better mood.
My plan was working. My kid was being cute. We split a pear and she made yummy (nom nom nom) sounds every time she put a piece in her mouth.

We took Dexter on a nice long walk. Willa pointed at all of the flowers and dogs she saw.
The weather was beautiful

Then, we were a half a block from our building when a man came up behind us and said "Can you let me by? You're taking up the whole side walk!"

?????

There I am struggling to wrangle a dog and a stroller, and it's trash day, so half the sidewalk is covered in garbage bags, and we were about 50 feet from an area where he could have gotten around us, and he thought that the appropriate response was to be rude to me?

So, I yelled at him "Have you ever heard the phrase excuse me?"

To which he replied "Have you? (What the fuck does that even mean? Good comeback douche.)

To which I replied "What, am I supposed to be psychic? How was I supposed to know you were behind me? ASSHOLE."

Then I walked into my building and the skin on all of the people in the lobby melted right off.

So, now I'm in a bad mood. AGAIN.

And I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do in a situation like that when my daughter is with me.

I don't want her to start yelling "ASSHOLE" at people, but I also don't want her to think it's ok for people to treat her with disrespect.

It's a fine line.

Posted by torrie at 10:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (18)

I think I might be done here. At least for a while. I don't know. It's feeling like a chore.

I just don't have the time. Running the household. Taking care of the animals. Taking care of Willa. Packing. Etc., Etc., Etc.
Willa's modeling career has kept me really busy lately too. In the last two weeks she's either had an audition (go-see) or a shoot on Tuesday, Friday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. She has a photo shoot and a go-see tomorrow.
I am exhausted.
And I spend Willa's naps eating or showering or returning phone calls. It's really annoying how much time eating and showering takes.

At night, after Willa goes to sleep, I make dinner (although lately I've been ordering out WAY too much because I just don't have the energy to cook), eat dinner, return emails, make phone calls, try to have an actual conversation with my husband, and watch TV. I barely have time to read blogs, let alone write one.

I'm sad because blogging is one of the few things I do for myself, and I've met a lot of great people on the internet. But, the truth is, I'm not a writer. When something is on my mind I don't feel the need to write it down. I've never kept a journal. When I write it's forced. I struggle to explain myself properly. I wish we could all just hang out- I'm much wittier in person.

I'm trying to prioritize thing in my life right now. Things that are important to me right now-being a good mother, wife, and friend. Eating healthy. Exercising. Photography. Updating my blog is on the bottom of the list.

I'm really stressed out. I can barely get the daily stuff done. I don't know how I'm going to find time to pack. I'm moving in two months. AND I have stuff going on EVERY SINGLE WEEKEND.
Somethings got to give. I need to spend more time away from the computer. I'm addicted and it's not healthy.

I'll still Twitter and Flickr. And I might come back here eventually.

I'll miss you guys.

Posted by torrie at 09:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (21)

I'm trying to do some research. It would be really helpful if you answer the following questions:

1) Does your baby/child sleep through the night?
2) What time do they go to bed? What time do they wake up?
3) Do they sleep in a crib or toddler bed? Is it in their own room?
4) Are they being breastfed?
5) If they wake up in the middle of the night do you need to breastfeed or bottle feed them to get them to go back to sleep?
6) What type/brand of diapers do you use?
7) Do you use a different/special overnight diaper?

Feel free to also tell us any tips, or stories about your child's sleep habits.

Posted by torrie at 06:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (49)

One minute I am having a bad dream about my father that I can't remember the details of when I wake up. The next I am having a dream that my husband and I are having hot shower sex.

One minute I am banging my head against the wall because my kid is screaming in her crib because she won't take a nap and I know she is tired. So, I end up having to put her in the stroller and walk and walk in the cold and rain for 45 minutes with tears streaming down my face because I am hungry and exhausted. The next minute I am playing with my kid and she is in a great mood- curious and laughing- and I think my heart is going to burst from all of the love.

One minute I am annoyed and yanking on Dexter's leash shouting "LEAVE IT" when he tries to eat some unidentified thing off of the sidewalk because I know it will give him diarrhea and he will wake me up in the middle of the night to go out- because I'm not exhausted enough already. The next minute Dexter greets me when I walk in the door with a stuffed animal in his mouth and a wagging tail. Later we snuggle in bed together and he rolls around on his back snorting with delight while I rub his tummy.

One minute I feel like I'm a fraud for calling myself a photographer because I really have no idea what I'm doing technically- I'm afraid that one of my clients will ask me a technical question and I won't know the answer. The next, I am excited and proud of a picture I took and I feel like I really have an eye. And isn't the end result- a good picture- all that really matters?

One minute I'm feeling self conscious and embarrassed about my post-baby body. And I'm angry at myself for not eating better and exercising more. The next, minute my husband tells me I'm sexy, and I realize that maybe my body isn't so bad, and that in a couple of years when we have more money I can hire a trainer and really get in shape.

One minute I'm totally stressed out about all of the things I have to do. The next, I'm crossing stuff off of the list and feeling a sense of accomplishment.

One minute I am in so much pain. My shoulder, my back, my hips. The next minute I realize that I am thankful that I can walk, and that I have access to some of the best medical care in the world.

One minute I feel like life is too much for me to handle. The weight of the world is on my shoulders. The next minute I'm at the park, pushing Willa in the swing while she squeals with joy, my husband and Dexter standing next to me, and I realize that maybe life isn't so bad after all.

Posted by torrie at 05:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

Looking for a Masseuse/ Babysitter/ Housekeeper

Must be proficient at back tickling, nursery rhymes, and folding laundry in a perfectly anal way.

Must actually clean under things.

Salary will be paid in cuteness, baked goods, and gratitude.

If interested please comment below.

Posted by torrie at 11:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

So, BIG news.

We are moving out of Manhattan.

Yes, we are THAT couple. The one who has a baby and then flees to the suburbs. My "cool" factor was already lower than most humans and now it is hovering in dangerous territory.

This decision was not made lightly. There was much thought and consideration and many conversations.

Here's a list of reasons we are leaving Manhattan:

1) We can't afford to live here anymore. We were already struggling financially and we found out that between rent and parking our expenses were going to go up about $1,000 a month next year. As much as I enjoy sleeping with strangers I do not enjoy standing on a street corner when it is cold or raining, so the obvious solution was; MOVE SOMEWHERE CHEAPER. (And sleep with strangers for free.)

2) We don't take advantage of what this city has to offer therefore making the higher prices we pay for everything even more ridiculous.
We're vegetarian and I'm the pickiest eater on the planet, so we aren't sampling all of the amazing restaurants in Manhattan. We can't afford to go to concerts and shows. And we aren't the bar/club types.

3) Our neighborhood is isolating.
We live on Manhattan's Upper East Side. The nearest subway stop is about a 20 minute walk from us. Central park is about a half an hour walk away. We hardly travel outside our neighborhood and as much as I love the neighborhood feel of the Upper East Side most of the interesting stuff in the city is NOT UP HERE. I might feel differently if we lived in a different neighborhood. And we certainly can't drive anywhere in the city because there are approximately 700 parking spaces for 7,000 cars in this city.

4) Dexter hardly ever gets to go to the park. Like I said above, we live about a half an hour from Central Park. Dogs are only allowed off the leash there before 9 am. Willa doesn't wake up until about 8am. Plus, if it's warm out, by the time we get there Dexter is already worn out. There is a dog run about a half a mile from us, but it is basically just a slab of cement fenced in. We bring Dexter there and he just stands there and stares at us like "You expect me to run around ON THIS?" Whenever we drive out to the suburbs and he sees grass he immediately throws his body onto it and rolls around like I do when I see a pile of money. This breaks my heart.

5) When I was young the city was fun and exciting. Now that I'm old and crotchety the city has become annoying. All the PEOPLE. SO MANY PEOPLE. YES, YES THE BUILDINGS ARE REALLY TALL NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY. And the SMELLS. And the NOISE. I'm sick of all of it.

6) Then there are the MANY MANY inconveniences. Not being able to buy more groceries than you can carry. Having to walk Dexter in the rain and snow and having to pay someone to walk him on nights that my husband is working. The elevators never working. NO TARGET. The list goes on and on.

Here's a list of reasons why we are so excited to be moving:

1) Our new place is AWESOME. It's not fancy. No granite or crown moldings, BUT there's 300 square feet more than we have now! And a second bathroom! (We can poop in unison!) And a basement! (Storage!) And OUR OWN WASHER AND DRYER! AND A GARAGE! And street parking! And- I don't know if you can handle this- A BACKYARD! (Fenced in!)

2) We will be living within walking distance of the train. NO JOKE- it will actually take us less time to get to Grand Central Station from the new place than from where we live now.

3) We will also be living within walking distance of our new awesome quaint little town.

4) I get to garden! I can't wait!

5) When we want to go outside we just open the door AND STEP OUTSIDE. Going outside will no longer be a huge production. Also, if it's raining or snowing or the husband is working I can just open the door and let Dexter out in the backyard.

6) There are two great parks where everyone takes their dogs within a five minute drive from our new place. There's also a nature preserve a few minutes away.

7) Trees. Grass. Flowers. FRESH AIR. Ahhhhhh.

8) Two words: KIDDIE POOL.

9) No elevators.

10) We are a ten minute drive from Whole Foods, Target!, and MANY other stores.

Now don't get me wrong- I'm terrified. Manhattan is my home.
When we had to move out of Manhattan when I was 14 I was devastated. I was obsessed with living in Manhattan. When I finally got to move back here 4 years ago I was elated. But, now I'm realizing that I'm not 14 anymore and I want different things. There are definitely things I will miss about Manhattan. There are days when we walk through Central Park and go to a cafe and I'm in love with this city. But, most days I'm just annoyed. When I see Willa's reaction when she sees plants, and birds, and butterflies, I know I'm making the right decision.

So Manhattan, it's not you, IT'S ME.

Posted by torrie at 06:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (33)

Posted by torrie at 11:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

Posted by torrie at 11:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

I've been hesitant to write about this because I'm sure I'll get lots of lovely emails from some judgmental assholes, but here goes nothing.

Back in the beginning of November we were in Bloomingdale's returning some stuff, when we saw that they were having a baby model search. So, we decided it would be fun to enter Willa. We filled out a form and then she sat in my lap and they snapped a couple of pictures of her. She gave them a huge smile and that was it. We went home and forgot about it. Then, a couple of weeks later, the phone rang. It was the people from Bloomingdale's calling to tell us that Willa had won the contest. I was dumbfounded.
The prize was a full page ad in The New York Times.
So, a few weeks later Willa had her photo shoot. She had a GREAT time. There were other kids there- they were shooting another ad. She loved meeting everyone and seeing everything.
She gets really bored when we stay at home. She's happiest meeting new people and seeing new things.
Willa's turn came and they plopped her down on a pillow in the middle of this big set in from of ten strangers (photographer, photographer's assistants, buyers, stylists, etc.) and she just looked up at the camera and laughed and smiled. She was awesome.

After the shoot we were talking to one of the women from Bloomingdale's and she said that Willa should model. I said that I thought she might have fun doing it, but I didn't know how to get started. So, she picked up her phone and called her contact at one of the top modeling agencies in the world. She told them that Willa was great and that they should sign her. They asked me to email them a picture. The next morning (a Tuesday) I emailed them and less than two hours later they emailed me back and said they wanted to meet her on Thursday. We met with the agency on Thursday and we were there for about five minutes before they offered her a contract. It was all very surreal.

Now, my husband and I debated this and discussed every aspect. I honestly felt kind of weird about the whole thing. We also had 5 different lawyers read the contract (including two who work in the entertainment industry).
We decided to go for it for the following reasons:

1) As I stated above, Willa LOVES meeting new people and experiencing new things. She lights up whenever someone pays attention to her. On the few go-sees and photo shoots we've been on Willa starts bouncing up and down and screeching happily when she sees the other kids.
2) I looked into mommy and me classes in my neighborhood. They cost about $500-$700 (yes, REALLY) and they only meet once a week. We can't afford that. Even the libraries in my area make you register weeks in advance for story time and most of them only let you go once a month.
3) Willa modeling means people will pay her to have fun. We can put the money in an account for her and if anything ever happens to us at least she'll have a little bit of a cushion. Also, we are just getting by these days and we can't afford to set aside money to put in a college fund for Willa. I am super paranoid about Willa having money for school because I almost wasn't allowed to graduate from culinary school because my parents couldn't afford to pay the bill. It would be great if Willa made enough money to pay for her own college tuition. (Although, I highly doubt it because tuition will probably be a bout a million dollars a year by the time she goes to college.)
4) Once she is actually old enough to understand what modeling is she won't be doing it any more. We don't want her to turn into Jon Bennet Ramsey or Lindsay Lohan.
5) We will be donating a portion of Willa's money to charity.
6)We rarely focus on Willa's beauty. Sure, we occasionally tell her that she is cute or pretty, but mostly we focus on how smart and well behaved she is.
7) We will not compromise our morals. Willa will not model for anything that we don't support such as pharmaceuticals or meat and she won't have to wear any animal products. Her agency is really supportive about this.
8) It's also good for me to get out of the house and meet new people. Plus, I may pick up a few photography tips at the photo shoots.
9) The minute Willa stops having fun we stop.

If you are interested in seeing Willa's ads I will be posting updates on Twitter.

Posted by torrie at 02:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (64)

Look who has their two front teeth:

Posted by torrie at 11:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (18)

Things that are interesting to a seven month old-

Water bottles
Glasses of water
Spoons
The cat's food bowl
Pens
Measuring spoons
Phones
Books
Music
Strangers
New places
Crawling
Being naked
Medical journals

Things that are not interesting to a seven month old-

Mommy
Our apartment
Solid foods
Her sippy cup
99% of her toys
Getting her diaper changed
Putting clothes on
Napping

Posted by torrie at 06:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Posted by torrie at 07:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

When I was little I thought using a tampon was insane.

I'm not sticking something in there.

I should also add that I was afraid of penises. My, how things have changed.

Anyway, like I was saying, I never thought I would shove a foreign object up my hoo-ha.

Then, the day after my 14th birthday, I got my period.

So, my mom bought me some maxi pads. I HATED them. They kept sticking to me. And jamming into my butt. And they made a crinkly sound when I walked. I was miserable.

I think I made it maybe a grand total of five hours before I asked my mom for a tampon.

After a couple of tries I inserted the tampon, and there has been no turning back.

It amazes me that I can walk around with a tampon in and not even feel it- I can even go swimming, and yet there are still people who choose to wear pads. This makes about as much sense to me as people who still use a bar of soap to wash themselves. *

(* I understand that there are a few of you who are very heavy bleeders and can't wear tampons, so please don't send me emails.)

What does this have to do with breastfeeding?

Well, when I was young I also thought I would NEVER breastfeed.

I thought it was weird. And gross.

Then I grew up and became a hippie.
And I everywhere I went I either read or heard that breastfeeding was the best thing you could do for your baby's health.
So, I decided when I had a baby I would try. I figured that even if I could breastfeed for a week that would be an accomplishment.
Then Willa was born and five minutes later she was on my breast. And it wasn't weird. Or gross. It felt very natural. And it felt like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing.

Now, I'm not saying it was easy. We struggled. Big time. On the second morning of Willa's life I stood in the bathroom at the hospital and cried because I felt like a failure. It took three lactation consultants and six weeks before the breastfeeding went smoothly. I look back on that time and I can't believe I made it through. If you had told me when Willa was born that it would be six weeks before we got breastfeeding down-six weeks of bloody nipples and pumping around the clock- I would have thought that I couldn't do it. But, I never gave up because I knew it was the best thing for Willa.
And here we are. Six months later. We are pros at breastfeeding. I'm so glad it worked out. It's so convenient. I don't have to worry about bringing bottles with me everywhere or mixing formula. If my kid is hungry I just whip out a boob.
Another bonus to breastfeeding that people hardly talk about? No period.
I haven't gotten my period since August 18th, 2006.
It is awesome.

(Do you like how I just brought this post full circle? That, my friends, takes talent.)

Posted by torrie at 11:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (34)

My kid has eczema.

At first she just had a little raised red patch on her chest, but now it is everywhere. Even on her face.

I've done my research. Kids with eczema are prone to other allergies. I'm so afraid she'll have food allergies. I'm afraid she'll be the kid at the birthday party who can't eat the cake and ice cream. And she'll have to carry an epi pen with her at all times. And going to a restaurant will be scary instead of fun.
I'm sure I'll be accused of over reacting, but I can't help but worry.

And call me superficial, but I can't stand that it has spread to her face. Her formerly perfect little face now has red bumpy patches all over it.

During my research I found out that eczema can be caused by dairy products that the mother has eaten (if the baby is breastfed). This means starting today I will not be eating dairy. Do you know how hard that is going to be for an already picky vegetarian? Also, what about the several months worth of breastmilk in the freezer that I have pumped? I guess I need to throw it all out.

I'd love to hear your experiences with skin and food allergies.

Posted by torrie at 09:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (40)

I really don't know what to do.

Next year my husband is doing a fellowship (further medical training) at a hospital that is about 45 minutes away from our apartment. We currently live across the street from the hospital that he works at now.
As you might expect his schedule sucks. He typically has to be at work by 7am, and he usually doesn't get home until about 7pm. Willa wakes up between 7:30-8:30am, and goes to sleep at 7pm, so there are many days when he doesn't even get to see her. Which also means that I don't get a break.
Then there are the days that he is on call. That means that he is at work by 7am and doesn't get home until about 8am the following morning. He is occasionally on a rotation that allows him to come home for a few minutes, but on most of his rotations he's not allowed to leave the hospital because he's on the code team. (This means that if someone "codes" he gets paged and has to run to their bedside.) This (the husband being on call) happens on average, once or twice a week. Those days are really hard for me. Willa has finally developed a bed time routine, but I have to take Dexter out at 10 or 11pm. So, I have to take Willa, who is sleeping soundly, out of her crib and put her in her stroller, and take her out in the cold. This almost always wakes her up.

Some people think that him being on call isn't that bad because he has the next day off. It's not as nice as it sounds. He's usually up all night when he's on call, so he spends most of the next day sleeping.
I very rarely get a break. When the husband is able to help out I usually spend that time showering or editing pictures. We can't afford to hire a sitter. Willa won't take a bottle. And my husband is rarely around to help. I can't even remember the last time I left the house without Willa. I really can't.
I feel bad complaining. My husband is at the hospital for at least 60 hours a week. He then comes home and has to work on all of the chief resident stuff, which takes up SO MUCH TIME. And he has to do it all in his "spare" time, which is ridiculous. Sometimes he plays a concert on a week night or a weekend (he's a musician too). He also has to find time to do things like eat and shower. He really is fantastic. He tries to spend every single free moment he has with Willa. He probably spends more time with Willa than most fathers who have twice the amount of free time spend with their kids.
Next year this will all be even worse. The husband will have a 45 minute commute each way. Which means he's home even less than he is now. And the nights that he's on call, there won't even be a chance that he'll be able to come home for a few minutes. I can only imagine how fun it is going to be to get a toddler out of her crib to take the dog out.
Oh, and have I mentioned that we have no idea where we are going to be living next year?
Yeah. That's another post for another day.

*Update- I've answered a few of your questions in the comments.

Posted by torrie at 10:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (46)

So, we started feeding Willa solids a couple of days after she turned five months.

Our pediatrician wanted us to wait until Willa was six months old (the current guideline).
Some people may not agree with us not listening to our pediatrician, but I just knew she was ready for solids.
The recommendation used to be four months, but because of the rise in children with food allergies, doctors now recommend waiting until six months.

We debated about whether or not Willa was ready, but we finally decided she was because:
No one in either my family or my husband's family has any food allergies.
She was exhibiting all of the signs that she was ready, including grabbing at our food.
She is physically the size of a six month old (she's 90% for height and 75% for weight).

Only time will tell if we made the right decision, but I'm interested to hear what you guys have to say.

How old was your child when you started them on solids?
Does your child have any food allergies?

Posted by torrie at 11:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (31)

Hey! How are you?
Did you know that trying to blog while taking care of four animals, and a five month old active, teething, doesn't like to sleep baby is virtually impossible? I was not aware of that. Now I am AWARE.
Also, having your laptop break does not help the situation. Especially when you usually use the laptop while you are breastfeeding which is like, oh I don't know, approximately a hundred times a day. But the laptop, it is broken, so you are just left with the PC. Which is in the bedroom. The most un-kid-friendly place in your apartment.
So, you try to write blog posts while the kid is napping, but the kid only takes two 1/2 hour naps a day during which time you do luxurious things like EAT! And GO TO THE BATHROOM! Which leads to several unfinished posts that are just sitting there mocking you.
Well, then there's the evening. The kid does sleep at night. Don't forget about the evening! You have time for blogging in the evening, right?
NOT SO MUCH.
In the evening you do more selfish stuff. Like MAKE DINNER! And EAT said dinner! And SHOWER! And do LAUNDRY! And RETURN PHONE CALLS! And EDIT PICTURES! Oh the excitement!
Plus, you have to fight your husband for the computer anyway. But really, what's more important? Blogging, or your husband's job? You might think the answer is obvious, but your husband keeps jabbering on about needing to make the schedule, and I'm a doctor- Blah Blah BLAH. And you don't have the energy to argue.

So, yeah. You're left with a post like this. Typed one handed while eating a bowl of cereal.

I'm sure there will be more time soon. Like maybe when the kid goes to KINDERGARTEN.

Posted by torrie at 01:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

Dear Willa,

One of my favorite bloggers (she had me over to her house for dinner once and she made me an ice cream sundae with caramel sauce and M&M's and then we stuck Cheerios to her dog's head- how could I not like her?) writes a letter to her daughter every month. I am horrible writer, and I don't have a lot of free time, so I can't/won't do this every month, but I had a few things to say.

You are such a good baby. I would never call you an easy baby- you constantly need stimulation, but there have been entire days when you didn't cry once. You smile and laugh all the time. I especially love when you wake up in the morning. You are in such a good mood, and you're all warm and snugly. Sometimes I'll bring you into bed with me and you will snuggle next to me and smile while you touch my face. Those are my favorite moments- all of us in bed together.

Your beauty scares me. I never tell you that you are beautiful; I tell you that you are smart. I don't ever want you to rely on your looks to get ahead in life. At first I thought maybe I just thought you were stunning because you were mine, but everywhere we go people comment on your beauty. People actually stop me on the street and in stores to marvel at you. You look up at them with your big blue eyes and smile. I must admit that I'm happy that you are strapped into your stroller because I'm afraid that someone might run off with you.

You love the animals. You watch them with a look of fascination on your face and you laugh and try to talk to them whenever they walk by. We are teaching you how to be gentle with them, and so far you are doing a good job.

They love you too.

When you were a few weeks old I resisted giving you a bottle because I was afraid you wouldn't want to breast feed. Well, we had a great lactation consultant who showed us the right way to use a bottle and we never had a problem. Now we have a problem, but it's the opposite of what I was afraid of. Having someone give you a bottle is not as convenient as it sounds. Every time you have a bottle I still need to drain my breasts, so I have to pump. You are a very quick eater, so it's usually just easier for me to breast feed you. We went a couple of weeks without giving you a bottle, and now you REFUSE to take one. You only want the boob. This means that I can't leave you alone for more than a couple of hours. I'm glad you like me, but it would be nice to be able to go see a movie with your father once in a while.

You are not a big sleeper. You take after your father. This is very odd for me, because I come from a family of big sleepers. Even the adults take naps. Before you came along I was sleeping 9-10 hours a night. You take two (three if I'm lucky) 1/2 hour naps a day. That's it. At night you wake up several times. I am very tired. God forbid you poop in the middle of the night because then it's party time and you don't want to go back to sleep. At least that's something you get from me- you get really happy after you poop.

You LOVE trees and plants. You get very excited when you see the trees swaying in the wind. You laugh and babble and kick your feet. I love that you love nature and it makes me feel guilty for living in the city.
You also love water. Your favorite time of day is bath time. When your father is home he likes to give you a bath. I usually stand in the kitchen making dinner listening to him singing songs while you splash.

You are totally a daddy's girl and sometimes when I watch you two together I think my heart might burst. The love that I feel is so overwhelming that I forget to breathe.

You love books or anything with writing on it and you love when we sing to you. You try to sing along.

You are very healthy and strong. You've been rolling over from front to back for a while while now (you were a day shy of six weeks the first time you did it!) and th other day your father put you down in th middle of the bed on your back and when he turned back around you were on your belly. He was stunned. You were smiling, obviously proud of your accomplishment.

You are so awesome that I admit that I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like there is no way the universe could have gifted me with such a fantastic child, and it's all going to be taken away from me.
I hardly told anyone that we had a health scare with you recently. You have a lump in your leg. I was terrified that it was something horrible. That the doctor might say the "C" word to us, but it turns out that it was just a reaction to a shot you got. I have never been so relieved in my life.

There's something I want to thank you for. I don't know how I would have gotten through my father dying without you. Your smile is infectious, and without you I probably would have been curled up on the floor crying. Thank you for giving me a purpose and for being such a wonderful distraction.

When I was a little girl all of my friends wanted to be ballerinas, or veterinarians, or doctors. I just wanted to be a mother. That's all I've wanted my whole life.

You were worth the wait.

Posted by torrie at 10:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (33)

Part of a new series I put together called "My Kid Has More Style Than Me".

Posted by torrie at 09:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

If you are a girl baby:

-You must wear pink at all times, otherwise, even if you are wearing a dress, people will ask if you are a boy.

- You CAN'T wear blue. God forbid. Everyone knows that only boys can wear blue.

-Don't even THINK about wearing anything sports related because as someone said to me once "But that's BOY clothing."

-Your stroller should be pink or purple or covered in butterflies. Only boys ride in blue or black strollers.

-You can't wear jeans (unless it's a jean skirt) because OBVIOUSLY boys wear jeans. Even if the stitching on the jeans is PINK.

-You must have hair, otherwise you must be a boy.
To clarify:
Hair = Girl
Bald = Boy
This explains why people do this to their children.

I hope I've made myself clear.

Obviously a boy:

Posted by torrie at 09:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (38)

Posted by torrie at 09:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

I think it has taken me 41/2 months to finally write this because I don't feel like i could ever do this story justice, but here it is anyway.

It was Monday May 14. My doctor was planning on inducing me on Tuesday. I really didn't want to be induced, but I was in so much pain at that point that I just wanted the pregnancy to be over.
At 12:30pm I visited my acupuncturist hoping that he could kick start my labor.
At 2pm I had an appointment with my OB. She said I was still less than 2cm dilated, but that I was "soft and so ready to go". She also asked me if I was aware that I was having contractions. I wasn't. I just felt kind of crampy. She told me to check into the hospital at midnight. They were going to insert something into my cervix to soften it and get labor going- unless of course, I was already having regular contractions.
Labor and delivery was really busy that night so they called us and asked us to come at 1:30am instead.
We checked in (we are in the biggest birthing room in the hospital- my doctor hooked us up) and I was hooked up to the monitors and IV's. It turns out that I was having contractions about five minutes apart so they couldn't give me the medicine to soften my cervix because I was already technically in labor. At 3:00am they started me on a low dose of pitocin.

They pump me up with so much fluid over-night that for the first time in my pregnancy my ankles are swollen and I get some stretch marks on my hips- NO KIDDING.

Over the next few hours various nurses and doctors kept saying to me "are you sure you're not feeling anything?"
My contractions were increasing and I still wasn't feeling them.

Over night I just hung out with my husband and watched DVD's- all the while watching my contractions increase on the monitor, but not feeling anything.

At some point early in the morning I had to poop. I was so worried that they weren't going to let me go to the bathroom because they told me once I was hooked up to the IV's and monitors that I couldn't get out of bed, but the nurse took one look at my terrified face and unhooked me. I was so relieved. I had spent the entire pregnancy- from the moment I first saw those two lines- worrying that I would poop on the table during delivery.

My contractions increased in frequency and strength throughout the morning- still with no pain.

My mother arrives.

At around 11AM one of my doctor's partners (my doctor was at her office a few blocks away) comes in to check on me. I am 4cm dilated.
He tells me that he wants to break my water and insert a catheter and that if I was planning on getting an epidural I should do it now because once my water breaks I should be in pain. I feel really weird about getting an epidural when I'm not having any pain, but I figure eventually there is going to be pain so we call the anesthesiologist.

After months of worrying, and getting an MRI and being assured that even though my back is fucked up, it's not fucked up in the way that should affect the epidural, they have trouble putting in my epidural. It takes several tries and two doctors.

They finally get the epidural in. I sit and wait for the supposed wonderful feeling that all of these woman talk about. The feeling that makes people want to hug their anesthesiologist. I just feel like my ass is asleep. I HATE the epidural. I tell my husband to have them turn it off. The nurses and doctors think I am a crazy woman. They keep asking me if I'm sure. I am sure. They turn it off.

My best friend arrives.

We are laughing and joking around with the doctors and nurses. We ask them to guess when the baby will be born. We hear things like 6pm and 10pm.

All of a sudden at about 12:30 I start experiencing INTENSE pain. It is different from how everyone describes it. It is not in my abdomen. It is in my crotch. I close my eyes and try to work through the pain. We call the anesthesiologists back to turn on the epidural. NOW I wouldn't mind a numb ass.

My doctor's partner sticks his head in the room as he's heading out of the hospital. I tell him that I'm having a lot of pain and pressure. He checks me. I am 8cm dilated. He is VERY surprised at how quickly I'm progressing.

My in-laws arrive. I am aware of their presence, but am focusing on getting through the pain. I assume that my husband will ask them to leave before I start pushing because that is what we had discussed.

SO MUCH PAIN. The epidural is doing nothing.

My best friend keeps asking why I'm not screaming. "Where's the screaming? How come there's no screaming?"

My doctor arrives. She is wearing a beautiful dress.
She had been sitting at her desk eating a sandwich telling her husband that she would probably miss the party they were supposed to go to that night because I was in labor, when her partner called her to tell her I was 8cm. She stopped eating her sandwich and ran over to the hospital. I tell her to take her time and finish her sandwich. She says "Um, yeah, I think I'm going to change into my scrubs".

Everyone in the room is watching my contractions on the monitor. My husband had explained to them how it worked. My best friend still doesn't understand why I'm not screaming.

She comes back into the room at 1pm and checks me. I am 10 cm dilated. She tells me it's time to start pushing. I wonder if she got to finish her sandwich. My best friend can't believe that after 16 years of me telling her that one day she would be there when I gave birth, that she is actually going to watch me give birth.

My doctor and my nurse tell me to start pushing. It is then that I realize that I have no idea how to push. It takes me a few tries to figure it out. My doctor has the epidural turned off which is fine with me because it wasn't giving me any relief anyway. (My doctor later says to me that she thinks she shouldn't have turned off my epidural. She thought it was making me numb, but she realizes now that it was just taking me a little while to learn how to push.)

My in-laws are still in the room. My father-in-law is standing a few feet away from the horror show that is my vagina.

My husband is holding one of my legs, my mother is holding my other leg and my best friend is pushing my head forward.

My doctor laughs and says that this is the most people she's ever had in the room during a delivery.

I am pushing. It is REALLY hard. It feels like the worst constipation I've ever had, times ten.

I am tired. I had pretty much been awake at this point for a day and a half.

More pushing. The contractions are right on top of each other. I only have a few seconds between each. I'm thinking if I could just rest for a couple of minutes...

But the urge to push is overwhelming.

I BEG for the vacuum. I say I can't do this. I feel the head and I'm thinking that there is no way I'm going to be able to get it out on my own. My doctor stays completely calm and tells me I'm doing fine. I feel like I've been pushing forever.

FINALLY the head comes out. I let out a scream. My best friend is relieved to know that I am human. I actually say "Thank God" out loud. I know the rest will be easy.

60 seconds later, at 2:30pm, after one hour of pushing, Willa was born.

There was much excitement and tears in the room.

My doctor tries to place Willa on my chest, but the umbilical cord is way to short- she can barely lift her. She asks my husband for help. He cuts the cord. I get to meet Willa. We are all amazed- when I was born I almost died because my umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck AND it was too short. I am relieved that Willa's cord was not wrapped around her neck.

Willa is perfect. I can't believe she is finally here. I feel the most at peace I have ever felt. Everyone around me is a flurry of nerves and I have never felt so relaxed.

I am a mother.

It was worth the wait.

Posted by torrie at 12:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

It has been a month since my father died.
A lot has surprised me- like how OK I seem to be be with it. I mean, I haven't really freaked out- not yet anyway. I thought I might lose it this past weekend when I was at his house sorting through his stuff, or when we scattered his ashes, but I only cried a couple of times. That was weird, by the way- picking up my dad's ashes from the funeral home. There was my dad- who used to be six feet tall, in something about the size of a shoe box. There I was walking down the street carrying my dad. I was surprised at how heavy his ashes were.
I never understood why people need to see the body for closure until now. I mean on Friday I was standing there talking to him and on Saturday he was dead. For most of my life my dad has lived in a different state than me. I've gone as long as six months without seeing him. So, it just doesn't really feel like he's gone. Not yet anyway. To be honest, sometimes I forget that he's dead. Willa is really enjoying her bath and I think "I should call my dad- he'd really appreciate this." And then I realize- OH. Or, I'm doing a crossword puzzle and I need help with a clue and I think "My dad will know this." And then I remember- OH. I've even gotten that "Hey, I should call my dad I haven't spoken to him in a while" feeling. I've even reached for the phone.
I think maybe out of the blue one day I'll have a moment like that and then I'll finally lose it.

I think part of the reason I feel this way is because his death was so uneventful. He had a long illness, yes, but I guess I've watched too many movies. I thought there would be a "death bed". As in "He's on his death bed". You know, a period where the person lies there unconscious and everyone sits next to the bed waiting. But, he was talking to me and twelve hours later he was dead. And I never actually saw his dead body. So, for all I know he could be off somewhere on a shipwreck expedition. But he's not.
Another issue I have is we never had "the talk". The one where he says all things he wants to say to me. Like, he's proud of me, or he gives me some sage advice. He never really said anything to me.
I thought that maybe this weekend while I was sorting through his stuff I would find an envelope tucked away marked "Torrie" and I would find a letter in it that my dad wrote me saying all the things he never said to me.
My dad was always very tough on me- I thought towards the end he would, I don't know, maybe tell me he was proud of me.
There is no letter.

As times like this often do, this has taught me who my friends are. Most have been great, but there are a few who have totally dropped the ball. It amazes me how some people haven't called or even emailed me. I know it's an awkward uncomfortable situation. I know it's hard to know the right thing to say, but the mature thing, the RIGHT thing to do is make a phone call or send an email. And I hate the excuse "I wanted to give you your space." If you know me at all, I don't care about "space" I just want some support.

As difficult as the past few months have been- dealing with all of this while trying to take care of a new baby- Willa has been a wonderful distraction. If it wasn't for her I probably wouldn't be getting out of bed these days. And as sad/upset/confused as I may be I can't help but be happy when she smiles at me.
It's too bad she has to go to sleep at night because that's when I stop being distracted and the bad dreams come.

Posted by torrie at 07:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (14)

-I found out that my building has been throwing out all of our recyclables with the regular trash. This makes me furious. I promptly reported them.

-I got a botched bikini wax- uneven, ripped skin, wax left all over me- and then the salon had the nerve to try to charge me extra.

-I was breastfeeding Willa and I started laughing. Apparently Willa doesn't like when I laugh because she started to cry. She's so adorable when she cries- she has a perfect pout- that it made me laugh harder which made her cry more.

-I have a canker sore on my tongue.

-Dexter has another hot spot.

-I was clipping my nails so I don't stab myself or my child and a nail clipping flew into my eye.

-The Mets lost.

I'm going to bed before anything else goes wrong.

Update: After a night of virtually no sleep, this is how my morning started.

Posted by torrie at 09:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Here's the plan- I have decided that I am never actually going to get teeth. I'm just going to teeth FOREVER, or at least until I go away to college. I will be happy, smiling, laughing, and talking up a storm and than with NO WARNING my bottom lip will quiver and I will let out a yelp of pain. I will also have trouble going to sleep and when I finally do fall asleep I will toss back and forth and wake up EVERY HOUR ALL NIGHT.

Love,

Willa

P.S. What does it mean when mommy sits in the corner and rocks back and forth whilst babbling incoherently to herself?

P.P.S. POOP! (AAaaaahahahahahaaaaa!)

Posted by torrie at 05:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

1) Thank you for all of your amazingly supportive comments and emails.

2) A few people suggested I hire some help. I would love to, but we are broke. We have about $1,000 in our savings account and that's it. We are living off of my husband measly salary. If you actually calculated how much he makes per hour, it's probably less than minimum wage. I'm trying to line up some photography jobs, but I don't really have a lot of time to devote to that.

3) Other people suggested I ask my friends for help. I don't know how this happened considering what a hippie I am, but most of my friends are lawyers, doctors, or bankers. They work a minimum of 60 hours a week, so they don't exactly have the time to babysit. And even if they did, I am HORRIBLE at asking for or accepting help. It is really hard for me to ask someone who works so much and who I hardly get to hang out with as it is to watch my kid.

4) With that said, my mother-in-law took one look at me on Saturday (I was so tired I was slurring my words) and said "That's it! I'm hiring a housekeeper for you!" She had offered to hire a housekeeper when I was pregnant and in bed for three months, but as usual, I refused because I am horrible at accepting help, gifts, or compliments. This time I am going to take her up on her offer. Living in Manhattan makes everything dusty as it is, having 4 animals makes it even worse. Then there's vacuuming, laundry, the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, etc., etc. Plus, I have to run most of the errands. You get the picture. Trying to get everything around the house done (I still haven't finished writing the thank you notes for presents we got when Willa was born), and run errands, and take care of Willa, and deal with the situation with my dad is impossible. Keeping my apartment clean is on the lower end of my list of priorities and it's become a mess. I'm looking forward to having some help.

5) Having no money at such a stressful time in my life really sucks. I'd love to be able to go out to lunch, or get a massage, or buy a magazine without feeling guilty.

6) I have 52 emails in my inbox waiting for my attention. If I haven't responded to your email I apologize.

7) I am performing (singing) at The Guthrie Center in Massachusetts this weekend with my husband and my father-in-law. Finding time to rehearse is practically impossible.

8) For those of you who don't keep track of my Twitter account, my dad was transfered to hospice Friday night. This brings with it new complications- the hospice is a 45 minute drive away (without traffic, but there always seems to be traffic), which means visiting my dad becomes an all day event. I am trying to visit him 4 days a week. I, of course, feel guilty that I can't be there every day.

9) Dexter was put on antibiotics and he's feeling much better.

10) My husband has vacation at the end of August/Beginning of September. We are supposed to go to my mom's house (in the Pocono mountains, 2 hours away) for 10 days. This might sound horribly selfish, but I'm really worried that my dad's illness will interfere with our vacation. We REALLY need this vacation. In addition to the regular 60-80 hours a week my husband works, on June 1st he became chief resident. It's quite an honor, but he has to do all of his responsibilities (schedules, meetings, etc) in his free time (and he doesn't make any extra money for it). Then of course he's helping with Willa- he spends more time with her than most dads who work less than him, and he's dealing with the situation with my dad, and he does a bunch of stuff around the house. He deserves a vacation.
When we saw my dad's doctor on August 6th he estimated that my dad had about a month to live. That coincides right with my husband's vacation. I don't want him to have to spend what little time off he has dealing with the death of my father and going to memorial services. Selfish, but true.

11) I haven't gotten my hair cut since February 22nd, and it shows.

12) Willa turns 13 weeks old today. She is a joy. She's been so cooperative with all of the trips to the hospital. She's visited the hospital almost everyday for the last 12 days and she hasn't cried once. Yesterday, she cried for a grand total of about 10 minutes the entire day, and that was only because her stomach was bothering her. Once she pooped she was happy and smiling again. She laughs and smiles all the time. She smiles at strangers. She is also trying to talk. I have no idea what she's saying, but she sure does. She's constantly babbling. She's helping me get through all of this.

Posted by torrie at 11:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Posted by torrie at 06:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

Here is a video of Dexter meeting Willa for the first time.
I had a hard time focusing the camera and giving my attention to Dexter and Willa, so I apologize for how wobbly the video is.

Posted by torrie at 01:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Here's what I'm sure will be the first of many videos of Willa that I will be posting.

Posted by torrie at 09:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

In honor of her two month birthday, Willa now has her own Twitter page.

Check it out.

In other news Willa had her two month checkup today. She got her first round of shots (I left the room- my husband stayed with her), and she weighs 12 lbs. and is 22 3/4 inches long.

Posted by torrie at 05:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)