The Muppets Movie
Saw it last week (yep, that’s right – I left the house and everything).
Jason Segal and Amy Adams pretty much ARE muppets. They’re so G-rated it’s almost creepy (but isn’t creepy. At all). They’re so likeable you almost hate them (maybe I did actually, a little – I hate the “if you can dream it, you can do it” genre in all its forms).
This movie was incredibly sweet and heart-warming and dorky, with a whole lot of big star cameos (I was so disappointed Neil Patrick Harris didn’t sing) and a surprising number of genuinely funny lines (“Boy, that explosion looked expensive”). Jason Segal was one of the writers, and I’m pretty impressed. His humour is very childish and G-rated – again, perfect for the muppets. Kermit as always is brilliant, Miss Piggy is. . . Miss Piggy. . . and the rest are just as hapless and loveable as ever.
The singing and dancing was very well done – yes, that’s right, it’s a musical. A highlight was the song “Am I a Muppet or a Man?” featuring a familiar face from The Big Bang Theory TV show.
The main character was Twilight-esque in the sense that he was a blank slate for viewers to project themselves onto.
I’d actually recommend NOT seeing this on the big screen. Muppets don’t benefit from being made giant. But if you have a kid, you’ll enjoy watching this movie with them.
Mamma Me
I love my life – and not just because the thrill of not being pregnant is still fresh. Like I said from the very beginning of the pregnancy, I desperately needed a meaningful challenge in my life – and becoming a mother is everything I could have hoped for. I really am happier than I’ve ever been, and I’m still overwhelmed with joy that the last seven years of existential pain have finally lost their grip on me.
Louisette is one gorgeous baby, which certainly helps.
Also, her facial expressions are endlessly fascinating (it seems the wall of her stroller is making threats).
She is seriously adding facial expressions to her repertoire daily. When her life began, she had two: asleep and crying. Then she added gazing – still a favourite. Now she has suspicion, surprise, shock, interest (different with familiar and unfamiliar objects), mischief, delight, smiling, grinning, sleepiness (rather than going straight to crying), pouting (ditto), and more. She doesn’t know how to use them all correctly, but who cares?
Feeding continues to be the major drama. After wildly differing weight reports (from different scales), I now weigh Louisette every Monday at a baby clinic. After two weigh-ins, it became perfectly clear that I wasn’t feeding Louisette enough (I’ll not delve into how THAT makes me feel*), so from last Monday afternoon I drastically increased the amount of formula with which I’m supplementing her feeds. She’s now having 75mls of formula about five times a day (out of seven or eight feeds). She’s also peeing up to twice an hour, and spitting up so much that it was difficult to find a dry patch in her cot last night (I certainly won’t be changing the sheets six times a day – and she doesn’t just spit up immediately after a feed, but at any time of day or night).
All is not lost on the breastfeeding front: she breastfeeds every feed (before any bottles are offered) and is still certainly getting some of her nutrition that way (maybe half or so – if it was just formula, she’d need 100 to 150 mls every feed).
In order to build up my milk supply, I’m sticking to three-hourly feeds (at this age, she’d normally start feeding as little as five times a day), and in between every daytime feed I’m on the pump (aka milking machine) sending the message to my breasts that they’re not meeting demand (and the supply does seem to be increasing by about 10mls a day).
This effectively means I’m breastfeeding twelve times a day (and carefully coordinating the pumping into that half-hour window that is one hour after the actual feed and one hour before the next feed – giving the breasts time to refill). It’s physically and mentally exhausting, and it still hurts every time (at this stage, mainly just because twelve times a day is so ridiculous), so I’m eating a horrifying amount of chocolate and lollies to keep myself physically and (more importantly) mentally up to the task. (I’m pretty depressed about my weight and pregnant shape, but at least it’s not getting significantly WORSE. . .) This means that my maximum amount of free time is now one hour and fifteen minutes – so daytime napping is pretty unlikely (Louisette doesn’t sleep on cue, either) – and I’m sometimes left staring helplessly at a crying baby that I can’t hold because I have to hold the pump in place.
BUT she is noticeably more content since getting more formula (again, proof I was causing her pain, but oh well*) – she would be sleeping well, except the nappies and spitting up tends to wake her. Night time is still mostly good. Last night and the night before she slept for five hours in one go, and both nights I actually woke her for a feed (she’s almost six weeks, so from next week I’ll start letting her sleep longer, since her digestive system will be able to handle it). That bodes VERY well.
Also, we’ve introduced that sweet sweet saviour of parents everywhere: the dummy.
The dummy is most useful as an artificial tool for sending babies to sleep (as they learn how to settle, they need a series of predictable steps). Two weeks ago I wrote that we’d moved Louisette from needing a feed to get to sleep, to needing to be held. Now she doesn’t need to be held – she just needs to be wrapped and given a dummy.
But.
Like all babies, she lacks the ability to hold onto the dummy. In a ten minute period she can easily drop it six times, and awaken and cry each time. A couple of weeks ago, her going to sleep process was to cry for around half an hour in my arms, then drop off, and after fifteen minutes of sleep she was deeply enough asleep to be put down without waking up. Now, I put her down with the dummy and supervise for about an hour and a half, constantly replacing the dummy, and then she falls asleep (and after about fifteen minutes is deeply enough asleep to lose the dummy without waking up). So it takes a LOT longer – but everyone’s happier (and I can use the pump when she’s be-dummied – just pausing to replace the dummy however many times it’s needed – which is extremely important). So overall we’re very lucky with the whole sleep process. Plus, when she has the dummy she’s wide-eyed and wondering for about an hour, which is still very beautiful.
On Sunday CJ and I took a one-and-a-quarter hour outing to a secondhand bookshop. It was fun. Despite my time restrictions, I still leave the house at least once every day – I enjoy the challenge, and it is worth skipping one pumping session. Tomorrow CJ’s parents are babysitting and we’re going to re-watch “Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows” at the ANU film group.
*Not as bad as, say, leaving her in the pool for “just a second” while I answer the inside phone, then living with the fatal consequences for the rest of my life.
On Monday I felt. . . not good. . . but now I’ve solved the problem it’s in the past and doesn’t matter any more.
Embrace your placebo
I’m honestly not allowed to diet at present, because that’s sure to dry up my milk supply. I’m also meant to stay relaxed (“RELAX, or your baby will STARVE!”)
Time to bring in my favourite form of self-medication:
Need I say more?
You know you’re a mum when. . .
-you find yourself washing dishes at 3am, because you “had a spare moment”.
-ditto blogging.
-ditto brushing your teeth.
-when you lie down to sleep, a drill sergeant in your head says, “Sleep! Now! Hurry up! Stop wasting time and sleep! NOW!”
-you can eat spaghetti one-handed.
-you already have four different hairstyles that don’t require a mirror. Or a brush.
-you never cry over spilt milk – heck, you don’t even wash your shirt until it’s been a few days.
-you look at other people’s kids and think, “Boy, they look heavy.”
-personal grooming is a privilege, not a right.
-the same does not stand for personal hygeine.
-well, not on the days you leave the house, anyways.
-you miss your baby when she’s asleep.
-even crying is cute – sometimes.
Steambrain Punkstorm
I’ve decided to make a steampunk dress. It will be adjustable for pregnancy and non-pregnancy, breastfeeding and non-breastfeeding, hot weather and cold.
It will be dark blue, ankle length and sleeveless, made of medium-weight material that doesn’t wrinkle. Here’s the material, in fact: something called “classique suiting”, whatever that means.
It will have a high waist that gathers at the front just below the bust (that takes care of the pregnant/non part). It will probably have corset-style lacing between a deep V-neck at the front, which I hope will solve the problem caused by breasts that dramatically change in size (I’ll wear a singlet underneath in a contrasting colour). And there will be some kind of ingenious arrangement to assist with breastfeeding (a kind of sleeveless button-up jacket that can be attached to the dress to become one piece with it: I have the buttons). Having it sleeveless means I can wear warmer clothes underneath.
As much as possible, the mechanics of the dress will be visible and decorative – brass look press studs, for example.
So. . . ideas? I think an adjustable length at the front would be handy, but not necessary (pregnant belly lifts the hemline at the front). The breastfeeding arrangement will be the most complicated to design, I think. There will be layers.
Inspirational pictures of my kind of clothes. . .
PS I haven’t forgotten the promised map of steampunk literature – I have discovered a few more books I really need to read first. Yesterday I discovered Mark Hodder, thanks to the Steampunk Scholar I mentioned a few Steampunk Sundays ago.
Hook and Line
It says plenty that I’m still following this blog. Here is a great article on hook and title. She says that your hook is the answer to the question, “What makes your book viable and unique?” And remember that controversial is good.
If you’re like me, your hook is what makes your book interesting to YOU. Remember that first moment of joyful inspiration, when you thought you’d never thought of anything so brilliant – and make sure that flash of genius came through in the finished novel.
Titles these days are short, but they tell the reader plenty. You want to convey genre and style – fast. So do spend those hours brainstorming until you find something that works – and then accept that the publisher may change it. That’s life.
Random cat pic (and yes it’s mostly baby. Sue me):
“Grass for his Pillow” by Lian Hearn: book 2 of 4.5
Our hero, Otori Takeo, is torn in three directions. He was brought up by the Hidden, a religious order that forbids violence. He was adopted by Otori Shigeru, a warrior with a long-term plan to reclaim his heritage from his uncles – a plan known and secretly embraced by his people. And Takeo’s genetic heritage binds him strongly to the Tribe, a group of assassins with special abilities, who would kill him rather than let him go.
The rest of this review is at Comfy Chair, where I get paid for it.
Outgrow your outfits
As you can probably guess, this is an awesomeness supplied by Louisette.* She has now gained about half a kilo (since birth, I mean) and has outgrown her first outfit. Farewell, cute white fuzzy thing. It was fun while it lasted.
*I’ve outgrown plenty of clothes lately, but it’s not so awesome when I do it.**
**Except when it’s because of Louisette.
A lifetime in pictures: The first month
I have taken at least one picture of Louisette every day since she was born. I’ll keep doing this until she’s at least a year old. There are comments here at Project 365.
It is already possible to see enormous changes. Here are the best (culled mercilessly, especially when she was photographed with other people – meaning that some very important people are not represented as they should be; Louisette, after all, is the star of this show):
Buy something truly stupid
My brother and I have something in common (other than genetics): we both own an artsy and unique coffee table. Although they’re different shapes, they both have a dark glass top and strange, leaf-like legs. They match almost nothing on earth – except each other. We both quietly covet the other person’s leaf table, while simultaneously wishing we could put our own in storage for a few years – they’re desperately impractical, not at all child-safe, and just the right height to be constantly banging the shins of the unwary – until we buy a house big enough to put them in (something we both plan to do in the next few years, if we can).
When my sister in law spotted another leaf table for sale online, she decided not to get it – but told me about it. CJ and I discussed it, and decided it was a silly thing for us to buy when our flat is much, much too full already. That was exactly why my brother and his wife didn’t get it.
But. . . we couldn’t just let it go. So my bro and I flipped a coin. I lost (or did I win?) so I bought the table. And I love it.
Ana likes it too.
What stupid things have you bought lately?
Felicity Banks 