Cooper, age three, not wanting to be outdone by younger brother, Nolan,  and his exploding butt, decided to up the ante.  Instead of just super-charging an existing bodily function, Cooper got incredibly creative and introduced a new bodily function that amazed not only his long-tenured daycare teachers, but also his ENT.

So without any further adieu, I give you Cooper and his Incredibly Amazing Exploding Ear!!!!!!!!

This new bodily function eliminates that pesky runny nose when suffering from a cold. No joke: his nose stopped running once his ear drum ruptured…because it’s all coming out the side of his head instead of the front. This is from an ear that lost its tube back in late February.

At this rate, I’m a little worried what exploding function Gavin will come up with…

I’ll wait till you’re done cussing to continue.

My theory is that he’s a good sleeper because he’s got a daddy that can sleep through nearly anything. And because he’s lucky enough to not have GERD or other sleep-robbing health concerns. And because Karma owes us a good sleeper after surviving Cooper’s infancy stage (that child got up twice nightly just to eat until he was about 9 mos old…besides being a light sleeper and having colic). Even Gavin wasn’t as good a sleeper as Nolan, though I have no complaints about Gavin sleeping five hours at night by age 8 weeks.

Nolan, however, has broken the mold, and was attempting to sleep four and five hours at a time from the first night home. In fact, he would fight us to sleep even when we had to wake him to feed him round-the-clock due to his drop in weight and his bilirubin levels. Yes, I know high bilirubin numbers can create a drowsy, less-responsive baby, but he would actually tighten up his mouth and close his eyes tighter if I was bugging him to wake him, even after an hour of pestering him. But if I started bugging him about the time he was going to get up, he’d wake up just enough to nurse and poop (always the poop with this kid!). Oh sure, he’d fuss a bit that first week and didn’t want to sleep by himself in his cradle, but after a few nights of snuggling with us and wrapping him up in his swaddle blanket, he began to have sort of a Pavlovian response to our very minor bedtime ritual.

One thing this kid hated for the first three weeks of life was to have his diaper changed. And I really and truly mean he hated it because the second we undid the diaper, he would start shrieking like someone stabbed him and would go into the most distressful panic mode I’ve ever seen in a child. I can honestly say he had a worse reaction to diaper changes than he did to his shots or the daily heel pricks he endured when his bilirubin was so high, which made those 10 diaper changes a day a bit frazzling on the nerves for everyone involved. Every diaper change took twice as long as it might normally need since he was screaming hysterically and flinging his limbs all over (you’d be surprised how strong a 7-lb baby is!), nothing we did would calm him during it (talking or singing, playing soothing music), and he would usually take up to ten minutes to calm down after a diaper change.

That changed once he realized it was bedtime. At only a week in age, he would still thrash and scream during his last diaper change of the night, still fighting me and howling as I wrapped him in his swaddle blanket. But the moment I fastened that last velcro fastener and popped a little hat on his head, he would go instantly calm and was usually asleep in mere moments. And then he would sleep and sleep and sleep. I never saw anything like it!

I tried the same tactic during the day and that little stinker knew it was daytime, and would still howl. I tried changing his diaper while still wrapped in the swaddle blanket, but he would shriek and wriggle the rest of the way out. It was only at bedtime that he would just suddenly shut down, almost like someone turning off the power.

I started to think that maybe I was making the blanket too tight and he was passing out, but even when I kept it a bit loose, it still had the same affect on him. And only at bedtime. I thought maybe it was the little hat, but even when I omitted it, he still slept. I thought maybe he was getting too warm (he was often a bit sweaty on his back in the morning), but even with lighter jammies and adjusting the thermostat to stop the sweating, he still slept.

As time progressed (and his weight and bilirubin numbers improved, so I didn’t need to wake him up), he stopped freaking out during diaper changes and he slept longer and longer. And today, at two-and-a-half months of age, he will typically eat around 10pm or 11pm and will sleep until at least 7am. And for that I am eternally grateful since his brothers usually get up BEFORE then.

What a relief! I sure do I hate when they use old, lumpy cream.

I swear he did that nasty scratch in the five minutes it took to call and make an appointment to get his portraits done. Stinker.
He also has been on a bit of a nursing strike the past day and a half, and pooped in the tub during his bath today. Due to the velocity at which he poops, I think I’ll be finding remnants for the next few weeks despite my efforts at containing and cleaning.
Wonder what we’re in for when he’s a teenager.

I finally to spit in the face of conventional science and put in several variables into a test. So I (1) gave Nolan a bottle when he hadn’t had one in a few weeks, and (2) only put formula in it. I still have all these Good Start 3oz nursettes from my Trip of Panic at 37 weeks, and figured I’d be able to see how much he’d drink, and if he tolerated the formula, both drinking it and digesting it, since once I return to work, I might not be able to pump as much as he’ll be eating and will need to supplement with formula.
Results? He tolerated the bottle (he was a little annoyed, but drank suspiciously once he realized it was squirting something in his mouth when he bit down), he didn’t seem to mind the taste of the formula, he drank all but a few swallows, he didn’t seem overly gassy or grumpy, and a few hours later he had a pastier poop. I call that a success!

After he finished his bottle, I pumped what I would’ve fed him: 4.5 oz…whoo-hoo! Take that you snotty LC that poo-poo’ed my non-Medela pump!
Sorry. That was my only negative encounter while staying at the hospital after Nolan’s birth: this rather snotty, self-righteous, If-It’s-Not-Medela-It’s-Crap lactation consultant. She tried to tell me my awesome Playtex Embrace Deluxe Double Electric Breast Pump was crap just because she had never tested it on the suction-meter and because it wasn’t Medela. You should’ve seen her hair stand on end when I told her that I found the Medela pump uncomfortable since it just seemed to tug on my nipples, whereas my Playtex pump did compressions about an inch up on my breast, about where a baby’s mouth would be. She also poo-poo’ed my non-lanolin nipple butter, asking me “would you feed your baby an avocado at this age? or an olive?”, to which I shot back, “would you feed yours some sheep wool?”
I will give her props for giving me some good info on treating and preventing thrush and the underlying yeast causing it, but beyond that, the woman really rubbed me the wrong way. So you can imagine how vindicated I felt when I pumped over four ounces in one sitting, when I used to only pump five or six total over the course of three 20-min pumping sessions at work. I can only hope and pray that I am able to continue pumping such decent amounts (and continue taking my More Milk Special Blend herbs).

And it was at me instead of the scrollwork on our headboard or the curtains in our living room. And I caught it on film. Or whatever it is on a camera phone.
I’ve been trying for about a week to catch one of these elusive smiles that aren’t performed for inanimate objects or the dogs, and have managed to amass some seventy-hundred blury shots (he’s constantly moving when he’s awake) or where the camera snaps the shot after the smile is over.

In my six-plus years of diapering, I have never seen projectile pooping. And I don’t mean he poops and it lands a few inches away from his nekkid behind. This kid, besides surprising even the pediatrician with his volume of poopie diapers (9 or 10 a day), and having some incredible thunder when pooping (heard it through a closed door and over the sound of my electric toothbrush), can shoot poop approximately three feet away. At least that’s his current record, set while laying on my bed. Before I could get a diaper on him (I was fighting with the near-empty tube of diaper cream), I heard a grunt, and then the pooplosion noise emanating from his itty-bitty behind. In one shot, he got the edge of the towel he was laying on, the edge of my bed, my leg and pajama bottoms, the floor, his cradle next to the bed, in-between the slats on the cradle AND over the top edge to get the bumper-pad and the bedding in the cradle.

And I guess if he doesn’t end up pooping competitively, I could always catch poop competitively, since my new poop catching skills are far superior to my puke or pee catching skills.

Kind of dark (took it with my phone), but here you can see the full distance of where Nolan set his projectile poop distance record. Don’t worry, I did this pic AFTER I cleaned everything up.

Up-close shot of the measurement of approximately 37 inches. I’m starting to wonder if I need to get a concealed carry permit for this child’s butt.

As you can see, we’re starting to fill in that empty second chin Nolan was born with.

• 5:40pm – while monitoring my blood pressure and such, Nolan’s heart rate dips to 80′s and we’re told that we may need a sonogram to check on him
• 7pm – After waiting over an hour, called the nurse to see if I needed a full bladder for my sonogram…or else I needed some help disconnecting myself in order to use the bathroom. At that point, the doctor decides that he probably just rolled on his cord and stated that due to his heart rate deceleration that I was no longer an elective induction patient and now had a medical reason if I wanted to do it that night (especially since I was so dilated). If I had a back to my gown I think I would’ve ran around hugging everyone in sight because I was convinced that I was going to be walking around and not have this baby until the bag and baby just fell out on their own, probably while in Costco lifting 40lb bags of dog food or something equally dumb and mundane.
• 7:30pm – we get my GBS-killin’ penicillin started
• 8:05pm – they break my water and I’m pronounced 7cm
• 8:45pm – start the pitocin to get my labor moving since I STILL wasn’t having regular or stronger contractions
• 9pm – They offered the epidural and since I didn’t feel too bad yet, I declined it, saying I thought I could wait until 10-ish
• 9:45pm – I asked for the epidural. I may or may not have been cross-eyed with pain at this point; I’m not sure since I had to take my own notes on this whole delivery even though a certain someone was sitting 3 feet away from me with their iPad. Not that I’m bitter or anything.
• 10:05pm – Epidural in place – hallelujah! It was all I could do to NOT jump up and hug the anesthesiologist. It may have had something to do with limited use of my legs, or the backless gown. I was checked and was still 7 cm, so they cranked up the pitocin.
• 11pm??? – Again, not good that I’m taking my own notes at this point in the night. At any rate, the epidural forgot to numb half my bottom – so while I was numb from my bra-line down, it seems that the nerves on the right side of my undercarriage ignored the memo and continued to cause me increasing amounts of pain. They try flipping me onto my right side to get the lidocaine to settle there. No relief. So my nurse ups pain pump and turns off pitocin to give the lidocaine a chance to work.
• 11:30pm??? – At this point I have tried to find that happy place in my head, but the bouncer at the door kicked my miserable self out. The contractions were coming on top of each other, giving me only about, what seemed, ten seconds in-between to gasp for a big breath of air to help me focus on the next wave of pain coming. I could hear people talking but couldn’t make out what they were saying. My wonderful nurse called the anesthesiologist back and he shoots a big shot of lidocaine directly into my epidural line. Within seconds I feel the numbness stretch up to my armpits, and the toes of my right foot have finally gone numb as well (they were the other hold-out…just wasn’t worried since I rarely give birth out of my feet). I feel my elbows getting numb, but not my forearms, upper arms, or shoulders. Alas, my bottom is still in a lot of pain and it seems that the shot only took the edge off so that I wasn’t actually yanking the bedrail off the bed or breaking Justin’s hand.
• 11:40 – My nurse starts chirping that one good way to get rid of this pain is to start pushing…because I’m finally 10cm. Part of me thought “are you kidding?” and the other part of me said something along the lines of “well, ok, if you say so.” Then the two nurses tell me to grab my legs and I started laughing because between the numbness in my elbows and the shaking from the narcotics, I wasn’t sure I could make my arms do much. So somehow my arms were hooked around my legs and we began pushing. After that first push, I finally feel the rest of the dang lidocaine make it to those triffling nerves in my bottom. And since the pitocin was still off, my contractions had finally slowed down to where I could get a good minute to rest and breathe in-between my sets of pushes. About ten minutes into the pushing, I start feeling really nauseous and am visualizing that on the next push I just may puke at the same time that my child is emerging into the world. A very weird sight. Even weirder was the little puke bag the nurse brought out. Ever seen one of those things? Looks like the little dust cups for a Dust Buster. As I’m laughing nervously at the thing, she mentions that the nausea will subside as soon as I deliver. I don’t believe her, and thankfully don’t need to use the Dust Buster bag to catch my vomit.
• 12:00 – Nolan arrives! He had the cord wrapped around his neck once (not twice like Cooper, nor was there a knot in it like Gavin, despite Nolan’s in-utero acrobatics).

When they held him up I was surprised how much he looked like Gavin (well, minus all the rolls Gavin had), and I said, “look honey, he has your toes!” which made the doctor and nurses crack up. And man, did that child holler…it was great. Since he was yelling so much I felt more comfortable letting the nurses clean him up while he laid on my belly (unlike Cooper who was more gurgle and less screaming). I touched his skin and it felt sticky and smooth at the same time. And then, while he laid on my tummy, I cut my son’s cord, officially welcoming my third, and probably final child, into the world.

Nolan, 16 Hours Old