It's okay - having a social life is for losers.

Babies sleep.  A lot.  You know what else they do?  Eat.  Also a lot.  You know what the worst is?  That between these two things it's awfully hard to have a life!  Especially when you have a baby like Daphne.  Now you might be thinking 'for such a cute baby you sure do complain a lot' but hear me out.  Daphne was breastfed exclusively until five and a half months and now she still feeds about six times in a twelve hour period.  She rarely, if ever, takes a bottle of pumped breastmilk (mostly because I seem to only have enough milk to feed her and none extra to pump) and on top of that she is way too distractible to be breastfed anywhere but at home (and yes, I've tried feeding her in the car, using a nursing cover, going somewhere dark and quiet; if it's not home she's not having it, end of story.)  Nap-wise, we already know that she needs to be held while napping.  She can fall asleep in a carrier and also a car seat, but it seems that when we're out both of these options only keep her asleep for 30 minutes max, and 30 minute naps for my little princess always result in fussiness...which equals no fun.  Now let me break down a day in the life of Daphne:

7:00 wake up and nurse

7:30 solids with daddy then hang/play time

9:00 (no later than 9:30) nurse and nap

10:30/11:00 wake up/play time

11:30 nurse

12:00 solids/playtime & stories 

13:30 (no later than 14:00) nurse and nap

15:00/16:00 wake up/go for walk and/or groceries

17:15 nurse

17:30 solids/play/hang time

18:15 bathtime/bedtime routine

19:00 nurse and nighty-night

Looks pretty good, right?  Yeah, she's on a pretty standard schedule for a baby and the best part is that she's not super OCD about following this thing to the letter; as long as the routine stays somewhat the same she's happy.  Now look closely at when she nurses and naps: you'll see that there's never more than two and a half hours between a nursing and a nap (and that's the maximum amount of time!).  So let's say that we make lunch plans with friends for 12:00, here's what it would look like:

11:00 I've had Daphne for her nap since 9:15.  Dave finishes his practice session then starts getting Daphne's diaper bag ready to go out.

11:00-11:10 Dave goes back and forth between the living room and nursery a million times until I've okayed the back-up outfit that we'll pack.  

11:15 Daphne wakes up from a two hour nap (and yes, she always sleeps extra long when we have plans)

11:15 Dave takes Daphne to get her diaper changed and dressed.  

11:30 Dave brings Daphne out, dressed in what can only be called a monstrosity. 

11:40 Dave and I finally agree on an outfit for Daph. I then nurse her, but she's fussy so it takes 15 minutes instead of 10.

11:55 Dave puts a sweater on Daphne, to which I remark 'That sweater's more of a minus zero sweater, we need something in the 5 to 10 degree range'.  

12:00 Daphne's ready to go.  I call our friends to let them know we're running late. 

12:05 Daphne's in the car.  I ask Dave where her blanket is. He says 'Uh, I thought you had it.'

12:07 Dave returns to the car with Daphne's blanket and we pull away.

12:10 Daphne starts fussing.  I search for the pacifier, which I can't find because someone forgot to pack it.  We head back home 'cause there's no way we'll get through a whole lunch without a pacifier.  No way.

12:14 Dave returns to the car, but before he can get in I remind him to grab Ella the Elephant as he forgot to pack her as well. 

12:16 Dave returns to the car.  

12:30 We arrive at the restaurant, 30 minutes late.  We feed Daphne her solids.

12:45 We finally order. 

13:00 Our food arrives.  

13:01 As Dave goes to take his first bite, Daphne (who's been perfect up to this point) starts fussing so he tends to her. I scarf down my lunch.

13:12 Dave eats his gazpacho and cold chicken sandwich (aka hot chicken salad with a side of minestrone)

13:30 Our waiter asks if there's anything else we need, to which our lunch guests beat us to the punch and respond with a quick 'no'. (By this point they've had just about all the screaming baby they can take and we need to get her home to nap before the crying turns into a meltdown).

13:35 Pay bill and head home.

14:00 Nurse and nap.

Now please tell me on what planet this would count as a 'fun' time out?  Exactly.  No thanks.  

Progeny androgyny.

I know you're wondering why there are two Daphne-with-Santa-Claus photos up right now, especially 'cause we all know that this is Daphne's first Christmas.  Well, the first one is Daphne's boyfriend who just happens to look a lot like her and the second one is Daphne.  You see, Daphne's boyfriend is with her quite often.  He hangs around our apartment in blue or green sleepers.  He's often with her on runs to the grocery store sporting a pair of blue jeans and a baggy sweater.  Pretty much he's with her whenever Daphne's not in a super girly outfit.  You know why?  Because he IS Daphne -- he's the Daphne that everyone loves to compliment when we're out and about. "Oh, what a cute boy.  How old is he?" "Now isn't he just precious!"  "Is he your first?"  It doesn't matter that she has pink stroller toys, or that the blanket covering her is pink.  They see the outfit, they see that she's not in a dress and they've convinced themselves that my little angel is a boy.  Dave and I are used to it now, we actually go out of our way to see how many people will comment on our little guy.

Well, fast-forward to November when I started thinking of Daphne's first picture with Santa.  I started looking online for ideas on what to dress her up in.  I found this amazing red and black plaid dress with white sweater combo, white tights and shiny black shoes; it was the perfect Christmas outfit.  Of course, it was already sold out and only available online (now I know for next year.)  So I moved on to my next idea.  We bought a super cute fair isle sweater from Joe Fresh.  It was cream with reindeer on it and red accents.  We put it on with a pair of blue jeans and a red toque.

We made our way to the mall all excited about one more 'baby's first' to check off our list.  So we get in line.  In front of us was this darling little 8 month old girl.  She's in a little dress/sweater combo with a headband.  She was obviously a girl.  So then I start talking to her parents when one of them peeks into our stroller to see our little baby.  "And how old is he?" "SHE is 6 months old," I reply.  "Oh...sorry."  Then behind us comes another baby (this time a boy) and his grandmother looks at Daphne, "Oh, isn't he cute!"  "Yeah, thanks."  Then they spot the little girl in front of Daphne who's now sitting on Santa's lap, "Bob, look at that little girl!  Isn't she just the cutest little girl you've ever seen!"


So then we take Daphne up, sit her on Santa's lap (actually Dave did, which is why you'll notice that the toque is resting on top of her head, giving the illusion that our little peach has the world's biggest noggin.)  The photographer (if you can call the 16 year old girl taking the pictures a photographer) starts taking pictures while another teenager asks us what package we'd like.  It's so typical -- they ask you to pick your package before you get to see the picture so that they can get as much money out of you as possible.  Being first-time parents we get one of the most expensive packages (the one that includes the CD so that you can print off a million copies for friends and family.)  Then you pay and finally they give you the package.  So I take the photo out, take one good look at it and give Dave the look.  The Eve's-having-buyer's-remorse look.  The same look I give him when we go out for dinner and I see that what he ordered looks better than what I ordered.  That look.  Before I can even take a breath he says "No, Eve.  We're not taking another picture.  It's a mall Santa picture, it's supposed to look bad."  "But it's Daphne's first picture with Santa and it has to be perfect.  Everyone else's Santa pictures are going to be awesome and ours is going to suck." Now Dave knows better than to argue with someone who can't be reasoned with, hence the second (obviously girly) Santa picture.  Happy holidays!

No, my baby won't cry that much.

For those of you who don't know, I gave birth to an incredible little girl named Daphne this past May.  It was love at first sight, she was absolutely perfect in every sense of the word.  We made our way to our private room at BC Women's Hospital and began calling friends and family.  My friend Julia, upon hearing how elated I was, seemed a little skeptical that I could be this happy after being in labour for 44 hours.  Well, I don't know if it was her skepticism, or Daphne's innate sense of timing, but when we got off the phone Daphne started crying.  And 4 months later, she stopped...well, sort of.

Daphne was one of those newborns.  The kind that defy the definition of newborn.  The kind that doesn't sleep 20 hours a day, but rather stays up 20 hours a day.  The kind that can only be held one way.  The kind that requires a specific type of rocking movement at just the right speed or look out.  The kind that can only sleep in your arms or in a car seat.  She was, in essence, a diva.  It was all her way or the highway.  Oh, who am I kidding, it still is.

I'll never forget our first and only night at the hospital.  At 3 in the morning I had Dave call the nurse's station for help.   'Our baby is crying' Dave exclaimed when the nurse asked how she could help.   'Well no guff, she's a baby and that's what babies do' was the gist of what she and everyone else told us from that point forward.  But seriously, this baby cried and she cried a lot.  Looking back, it was probably colic, but when you're pregnant for the first time, you come up with all these expectations for yourself and how you're going to be as a mother.  Some of them are uncontrollable, like 'I'm not going to have a colicky baby, colic is just a blanket statement they give babies whose mothers can't calm them down.'  Well let me tell you, we tried everything, and yeah, some things did work better than others, but Daphne nonetheless was still one of those babies.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.  She's perfect!

Has it already been seven months?

Okay, so it's been 6 months and 23 days, but who's counting?

One of the most common pieces of advice new parents get from people who are already parents is 'Enjoy this time, it goes by way too fast.'  And you think to yourself, well yeah, just 'cause you didn't take the time to enjoy your kid doesn't mean that I'm going to do the same.  Then you have a baby, and hours turn into days, days turn into weeks and before you know it you're sitting on your couch having put your precious baby to sleep and you think 'where did the past 7 (6 months and 23 days) go?'  And even worse, you start giving new parents the exact same advice.  Lame.

No seriously, where'd the time go?