Apology owed to you, dear and few readers.

I don’t think I’ll be able to blog more than once every other week because I so enjoy reading all of your blogs, getting my laundry done, cooking dinner once in a while, and taking care of a fun-tastic 7 month old!!  Also, I am back to “work” as an actress and video editor.  Golly, the attempt to get even a little bit off my to do list is a bitty-bit stressful.  But I am getting sleep these days!  

And I am happy to report that the little boy is now actually ROLLING.  It’s so much fun to watch him do it and applaud with wild abandon.  When he sees something he wants to touch, he will find a way to wiggle forward, flop over, roll, whatever it takes.  I am much more hawk-like with my setting him down to grab the phone (ha!) or wash my hands or get a snack in the kitchen.  He loves things with buttons, especially the Tivo remote.  Gawd, he wants to press the Tivo buttons as often as Mom and Dad do, and why shouldn’t he?

Now on to the toxic waste.  Last night was a fitful night for Little J, and I knew it had to do with teething and a messed up schedule.  I confess, I flew to Las Vegas for 48 hours to help my cousin celebrate her 21st birthday.  I got to drink vodka tonics, play penny slots, and experience the non-stop engorgement that pumping and dumping just cannot fully alleviate.  Yikes.  Left under the care of my babysitter (by day) and my hubby (by night) I felt that my son was well taken care of.  When I returned, he did not squeal with delight, but kept me in his sight at all times.  The last few days we have been stuck together like glue.  It’s wonderful, and yet it makes me feel guilty, too.  Naps have been infrequent, and I am nursing him often to get my milk supply back to normal.


So, last night he woke every 2 to 3 hours, and I would soothe him, sing to him, let him breastfeed for comfort.  I realized suddenly that this kid has not pooped in a few days.  How many?  Two, three?  Three and a half?  I started to worry.  I lay next to him in our bed, rubbing his back as he snoozed between my husband and I.  I woke hubby up to ask him when the baby had last pooped.  He tried to answer, but drowsy and confused, didn’t offer much.  Then I woke him up again.

“Am I crazy to think maybe he isn’t just constipated, but has like, like, a bowel obstruction???”

“He’s fine, sweetie.”

“Oh God, baby.  Please poop tomorrow.”

And he did.  You could smell what was waiting in that diaper from across the living room.  Literally toxic waste.  I was thrilled that life was returning to normal.  Thank you, poop!  Curse you, Las Vegas.