times change...

Our little one is on a relatively strict schedule in the evening. We found that the schedule works great and ensures a nice quiet night.

7:00 - Miscellaneous nap time...she gets tired and gets whiny, so inevitably one of the pushover parents will hold her until she's asleep and then naps for a bit. Occasionally she'll hang with us and stay awake. All depends on what time she last had the bottle.

8:00 - Mom preps bath, dad preps baby for bath. Once I'm ready in front of the tub, Jamie comes from bedroom to bathroom with poor naked baby hanging at arms length. I guess Karma is a b*tch...pee on daddy twice and that's how you'll be carried. After bath, dad takes baby, puts on diaper, lotion, and PJs while I clean up tub and stuff. Mom's also prepping the good-night bottle so that dad can feed her once he's done getting baby all ready.

8:15 - Dad feeds baby while mom sees if there's any last minute stuff to get ready in baby's room before bed.

8:30 - Dad says goodnight and passes off the drunk baby to me. A little extra back patting on the way to the bedroom (those darn bubbles are apparently very painful). Then we sing some twinkle twinkle (don't have much else in the lullaby arsenal), I put her down, and that's it. Sleeps through until the morning. Beautiful!!

If we stray, we've found that the results are not good. With Thanksgiving yesterday, everything was too bright and new, so she didn't sleep there and freaked out a good bit. Once we got home around 9:00, we did PJs, bottle, bed, and she was out like a light. Then she woke up at 4:30 though. Ugh. She apparently had no intention of going back to sleep, so at around 5:15 I finally gave in with a bottle.

As with dogs, babies seem to thrive on routine and predictable patterns. Hopefully, in time, she'll be more flexible, but for now, don't expect to have much fun with us all night. Even though she's the baby, she's given us a curfew. We'll remember that when she asks to stay out until 12:30am to hang with a boyfriend. Again, Karma's a b***h.

crack the windows?...

Now that I'm back to work, me and the little one are traveling together quite more then ever before. The drive morning and night is about 30 minutes, give or take how many school buses I run in to (and by run in to, I don't mean actually hitting them) and how many other people decide they need to leave their house or work at the exact same time as me. As a smart mommy, I try to time her feedings around the commute to make sure she's good and liquored up.

Inevitably, people need to stop for small things on their way home. "Honey, can you pick up some milk on the way home?" "Dear, we're out of toilet paper, can you grab some quick before you get home?" Before baby, this was no problem. Run in and a couple of dollars later, you're in the car with the milk or bread or whatever. Need to pick up a prescription and have some sort of odd reason why you can't use the drive through? Take a quick trip into CVS, head to the back, talk to the people who seem to be playing dress up with pseudo-pharmacist garb, and then go home, ready to medicate when needed.

But now, life isn't that easy (which of course was a given considering I'm mom now). I ran into the dilemma today when a milk shortage prompted a quick call. "Hey, since you need to stop and get gas, can you run in and grab some milk?" The question popped into my head as to where all the Wawas were on his way home, but that's neither here nor there. I'm driving along, and suddenly I think to myself, do I need to lug this heavy carseat/carrier into Wawa just for a single jug of milk? It'll only take a minute...can I leave her in the car? Of course I'd keep the doors locked, but is that something socially acceptable? The tinted back windows keep her hidden from outside eyes. But someone would randomly walk past my car, trip, smoosh their face onto my windows, at which point they'd see the abandoned baby and call the police.

Needless to say, I ended up at home milk-less. There may have been a time when parents left their kids in the car while they went grocery shopping. Heck, when my mom did that with me I think her station wagon didn't even have seat belts in the back. I wasn't safe when the car was moving, so what could possibly happen in a stationary vehicle? I'm sure when children were in the wagons on the Oregon Trail, they stayed put while parents went hunting for critters to eat. While I do remember all the fatal things that could happen to you in the Oregon Trail game, I do not recall them ever telling me that my computer child died by being abducted by psychotic wilderness people.

There needs to be a book out there with the protocol for things like this. There could be stipulations. If the register is by a large window 10 feet from the vehicle and the vehicle is in plain sight, it is permitted. If the parking lot is 10 or more feet from the store and there are no windows, then it's a no go. Until I find that book, I will defer to taking her with me whenever I venture in anywhere, no matter how remedial the chore may be. If I knock over the chocolate covered pretzels hanging from a dinky display at CVS with the cumbersome car seat, I'll blame this society that we now live in, chock-full-o psychos and sickos. And then I'll pick up some pretzels for my troubles.

look at those legs...

I had started the week with sending her to "school" in her PJs. Why not? What was she going to be doing that required her to be dressed to the 9's? Mind you, she the only girl out of a group of 4, so there are plenty of older men to choose from, but PJs might be very appealing to them (PJ's...bed...there's a connection there). However, once I got a compliment on the cute outfit she wore Tuesday, I felt obligated to be cute every day from there on. She will need to recycle outfits quite quickly - she'll need to suffer the embarrassment of wearing the same onesie twice in close proximity...the horror!

My favorite get-up is a simple white onesie (of which we have plenty) and her pink argyle tights. The tights are size 0-6 months, so on her, they're relatively easy to put on and take off. Were they not, I'd be concerned that the nice ladies at the center would give me dirty looks as I dropped her off and picked her up. When I set her down the morning she wore these tights, she looked awfully slumped. I tried straightening her out (such a heavy head on a wobbly body, I thought), but again, head down. I then realized that she was enthralled with her tights. Babies like contrasting colors, and as you can see by the picture, these jobbies are quite the eye-catchers. She sat there, staring at her tights, and almost seemed to be moving her legs and at the same time reaching for them. I'm pretty sure, however, that she has no idea that the legs are hers, that moving them has nothing to do with the argyle print moving, and that reaching for them means reaching for her own toes. Regardless, I wish I could put on an article of clothing and be content with staring at them. Such inexpensive hours of entertainment.

didja miss me?...

I missed Tuesday's post. Something tells me this is going to begin to be an every-other-day blog. Such is motherhood.

Today was our third day back to work. I'm starting to get back into the groove of things, but I must say it's been a bit tough to be productive. I have quite a few relationships with employees throughout the company (as in connections/friends, not inappropriate work affairs), and anytime I walk somewhere, I'm stopped frequently to engage in a conversation with someone welcoming me back. My favorite part of each of these conversations is the "you look so great" and "we missed you so much" phrases. Because of the pure enjoyment I get out of hearing this things, I allow myself to become distracted and have these chats. It's fair to be selfish like that, right?

Not only am I adjusting well, but so is Alexis. Each day I receive a sheet that outlines her every move from that day. Times of feedings. Nap times and durations. Diaper changes (complete with places to mark whether it was just wet, whether there was a poopy, or both). It was nice to see that her nap times have extended to longer time periods each day, which is fabulous (the first day it was 15 min there, 20 min here). There is nothing worse then being excited to see your daughter after a long day only to have her scream in your face because she's tired. Thanks dear...great to see you too.

What cracked me up is that this morning my feelings suddenly stopped being about her and were all about me. We arrived and I again looked around the room to find the best spot. I decided on the pile of boppy pillows close to another boy (who can roll around...I was hoping her pillow barrier would keep her safe from the rogue roller). When I looked back as I ventured out of the infant room, I was actually saddened by the fact that she was content and seemed happy! Wait a second dear daughter. Aren't you supposed to miss me? Aren't you supposed to at least give a little whimper because you're going to miss mommy? Do you like being here better then with me? What is wrong with you?!? Speak up little girl!!

But in all honesty, she really is doing well. The teacher told me that she's adjusting well for someone that's only been there three days. Initially I thought, "she tells everyone that", but was informed by a credible source that she does not make a habit of saying things like that. I guess it's important for parents to hear if their kid is a nuisance that just can't hang with the other kids.

We take it one day at a time. By week end she'll scoff at my when I come to visit her, as if to say, "mom, I don't need you here, thank you very much". ...they just grow up so fast.

zina, warrior princess...

This morning I dropped Alexis off at the SEI child care center. While "checking in" for the first time, I started to feel it. I think only women can understand the feeling of tears "welling up" inside. I really do think it creeps up from the heart, as sappy as that sounds. As I'm talking to the infant room teacher I can hear the telltale sound in my voice. Any man that has argued with a woman on the verge of tears knows the sound. The throat tightens, the pitch comes up a bit, and the words come out a bit differently. A woman is at the breaking point at that point. Choose your words wisely. Tip the emotional scale and the waterworks will start. I held on for dear life and managed to suck it up...this was my first day back to work and I couldn't ruin my subtle office mascara.

I then asked where I should place my dear little one, since for some reason it didn't seem that all teachers were rushing my way to dote on her and her alone. One was checking in my bottles, the other was feeding some undeserving little boy. She tells me to put her somewhere she'd be comfortable. I look around...nothing looks good enough for my little diva. I finally opt for an interesting thing that can only be described as a baby pool made out of pillow material. She gives me "the lip". Oh goodness it was terrible. I shook a stuffed fish in her face, the lip went away, and I finally decided to leave quickly and quietly. It was like the feeling before diving into a frigid pool...just do it and get it over with...it's going to feel bad no matter what.

The whole way back to my desk all I can see in my head is my daughter, terribly alone and abandoned, doomed to sit in a strange stuffed pool all day. And that lip...I see the lip in my head the entire time. As a side note, another phenomenon with women's teary state is that, if you do manage to hold the tears back, you can't actually talk about what's wrong. Doing so will break down whatever wall you've managed to build and the crying begins.

I get to my team's area and someone says, "welcome back...how did it go?!". I simply shake my head, raise my hand as I walk by, and hope that she understands - I can't talk now or I'll start weeping. My team is almost all mommies, both new and old, so I was given some hugs and reassurance from the women around me. I dove into a 10:00 meeting which was incredibly rewarding and productive, and for a second I almost forgot about my trying morning. A mid-day visit showed me that my daughter was not still in the makeshift pool, that everyone loved her, and that they seemed to be playing musical Alexis.

This morning I placed my little girl, who I saw every day all day for 10 weeks, in the care of someone else. Zina, the fabulous, kind, and experienced caretaker in the infant room made me feel so at ease. She is strong, confident, yet also understanding of the needs of both the child and the parent (and in the end it really is much harder on mom then baby). She's in good hands with her - Zina is not frail and looks quite tough. If one of the kids from the toddler room starts talking smack and startin' s**t, Zina will be able to rough them up to protect my little one.

whatever shall we do?...

For those of you that are very concerned about what will happen with this blog upon me returning to work, do not fret. I know that some of you have been watching your calendar, shedding tears about the 17th looming over your head, knowing that your daily, entertaining break from work may come to an end.

But fear not! I do plan to continue. I won't be able to write in the morning, since that time has already been allotted to all sorts of un-fun things. I can't write during the workday. First of all, that would be a poor use of company resources. Second, and more importantly, there are timestamps on these posts, and if someone from work were to put one and two together, they might say, "wait a second...Jessica wrote this at 11:00...I think she's abusing her computer privileges."

So that leaves the evening. While I know there will be a lot for me to do, I think this will be a nice way to wind down at night before bed. Now, mind you, bedtime may become 8:00 (which is technically before Alexis', but we'll ignore that for now), but I really do want to continue. As my previous post said - prioritize!

I look forward to continuing to share my rants with you (and of course showing you all pictures of my ever growing sweetheart). You better keep reading! I don't just do this for my health you know. Well...maybe I do. Doctors say that journaling is therapeutic, and this is pretty close to me jotting away in a small pink diary, complete with lock, hidden under my mattress. So be my apple a day and help me keep the doctor away.

the time has come...

Well, ladies and gents, Monday marks a momentous occasion. It is the date of my return to work. SEI and I will be reunited. I'm hoping the transition back into the work-world is a smooth one. Before my pregnancy, it was all about my career. Then, during my pregnancy, I started to think about things a little differently, but it was relatively similar to my pre-maternal state. However, I realized that I had no idea where my head would be when I returned. I'd be returning from 10 weeks of time away. I'd be mom.

Would I be as career driven as before? Would I be even more so then before, realizing that a progression in my career would eventually result in more financial stability for our little family? Or would I decide that my career isn't as important as it was; instead it was simply an income to support us, with my only priority being mom? I have a feeling things will be somewhere in the middle. I didn't go to school for 4 years and work hard since then to simply give it all up. At the same time, I do have a new role as mom (one which I didn't interview for yet hope I qualify for).

I think the word of the day for me will be prioritize...or I guess the word of every day. Also, compromise. If I keep those things in mind, then I should feel fulfilled. I want to set a good example, I want to enjoy myself, and also want to be able to look back and say, "I'm glad I made the decisions I did, and me and my family are all the better for it." I'll take things one at a time, follow both my heart and my brain, and see where it takes me.

her new stats...

Pediatrician appointment today. Here are the new figures:

12 pounds 10 ounces (85th percentile)
24 inches long (95th percentile)
She's also in the 90th percentile for her head circumference. She's got a big noggin' like her mommy.

Everything checked out ok. Her neck is strong, she follows lights and voices, she's eating well.

Routine maintenance completed. Next inspection due in four weeks!

says who?...

Not really a fun topic today, but I can't be witty every day, now can I?

Having a baby, you're suddenly barraged with all sorts of medical decisions that need to be made. Right from the get go, you need to let them know whether or not she should get her first shot at the hospital. Then there was the choice between breastfeeding versus formula. I needed to decide whether the benefits of breastfeeding outweighed the potential risks of passing my anti-seizure medication to my child. Next are all of the vaccinations that are delivered in droves. Each monthly appointment comes with a new shot(s) with a seemingly new name (I can't keep them all straight...good thing I have my handy vaccine card to keep track).

The one that's most concerning to me is the possible link between autism and vaccines. There is speculation that they're connected, but supposedly there is no proof. So maybe I want to be selective about what she gets. But how the heck do I know which ones to allow? It's much like when you install a computer program, you can either select "full install" or "custom", though you get the warning that custom should only be if you are familiar with the separate files.

I went to the pediatrician today positive that I was going to spread all of these shots out. Such a little body, should she really get four injections plus some sort of oral liquid that covers stomach viruses? But then I start talking to the pediatrician, and I can't figure out, from our conversation, which she should get today and which we can schedule later (particularly because she's starting daycare on Monday). I mention my concern about the autism/vaccine issue, but of course am told that there's no evidence. So I give in and say ok, let's get them all.

Now I carry the weight of, if she were to come down with something like autism, it's my fault. But we're in the hands of the medical community. I selected this pediatrician because I like her and trust the practice. Therefore, shouldn't I default to her recommendations? But as many people joke, doctors practice medicine.

It crosses my mind that there is information out there about drugs, their side effects, the risks, etc, but because there is big business in the pharmaceutical companies, isn't there the potential that they'd cover something up?

Big brother watches us, but who turns around and watches them?

public displays of whining...

Yesterday was a long day of miscellaneous chores and errands (and Jamie's birthday, by the way). Obviously our little girl trekked along with us since leaving her in the car with the windows cracked would not have been appropriate. First we went to my work (SEI) for a tour of the child care center and for a flu shot (how's that for a birthday present?). Then off to Friendly's for lunch. After that, a trip to the mall for Jamie to get an eye exam and a new pair of glasses. I'd say we were out of the house from 9:30 to 4:30.

At work, she did relatively well at first. Then about an hour into our visit there, she began to get grumpy (not exactly what we hoped for while waiting in a room with my coworkers, awaiting the impending doom of this flu shot). Same situation at the eye doctor. Same thing the day before when I had lunch with a retired co-worker.

She's the kind of child where, if she gets tired, she refuses to stop looking around and fights sleep as much as possible. The result? We move from whimpering to whining to crying. This is accompanied by us walking around, bouncing her a bit, and sometimes doing a side to side little dance in front of everyone. And then suddenly.......silence..... Out of nowhere she'll just fall asleep.

My problem with all of this is not that I feel bad for her. I mean, I guess I feel bad that she's tired, but in my mind I think "well then give in and go to sleep silly girl". My issue is that I get this strange sense of embarrassment. I almost feel the need to go around to everyone and apologize for my child's blatant attempt at ruining their day. It's obvious that my daughter is being rude and disruptive. You want to finish your deliciously prepared fried meal at Friendlys in peace? Oh I think not.

I've been told, however, to chill out - it's ok. It doesn't really seem to bother anyone. People would get mad if we were at a movie or at a fancy restaurant, but we wouldn't go there unless we called one of our many eager babysitters. And I realized, for example, that when I'm grocery shopping at places like Walmart , there is sometimes a chorus of miserable little babies (and who can blame them...they're at Walmart for goodness sake). Is it possible that I'm embarrassed because I've been annoyed by crying babies in the past? Was I so cold-hearted that I thought the parents had pinched their child just to get him to cry in public?

Who knows. Now that I'm "mom", I guess I do need to relax, do what I can to calm my baby, possibly get up and walk around for a bit, and just remember that "it is what it is". As long as I'm showing effort and not just ignoring her, leaving her in her seat to scream while enjoying a low cost meal, it should be fine. Hey, I'm trying. Do you want to hold her and give it a shot??

And if you don't like it, then you can take your kickin' chicken buffalo strips in a to go box and enjoy it somewhere else, thank you very much.

take a day off...

I went to the bank today and found a big "sorry we're closed" sign. I've decided that I too am going to recognize Veteran's Day. See you all tomorrow.

poo poo on pooh...

If you read the post immediately before this one, you will undoubtedly notice my aversion to Pooh Bear. It's not limited to simply Pooh either. It extends to Pooh's entire community. The Pooh bunch is not something that I feel children should learn from. Here is my issue:

Pooh himself is quite dopey and is overweight (which you see when he gets stuck in fallen trees and such). He eats a carbohydrate laden diet of honey. We have a huge childhood obesity issue in this country - Pooh does not exemplify the FDA's approved pyramid of nutrition.

Eor (spelling?) is incredibly depressed. His depression may stem from the nail in his butt, but it seems to extend deeper then that. Something must have happened in his childhood that scarred him for life, leaving him deprived of emotion and unable to exhibit joy or happiness.

Then there's that rabbit. I think his name is Rabbit, which is so original. Maybe the fact that his name is so asinine is why he is so angry. Rabbit is miserable and seems to yell at all of the other characters. They try to be nice to him, but he doesn't waver. Again - do we aspire to have our children learn to be mean to other children and have zero empathy?

Of course we can't forget Tigger. This tiger has major issues. I think some medication should be prescribed for his severe case of ADHD. He may also be taking some street drugs since no tiger tail should be able to sustain the stress of a large tiger bouncing around on it. Speed or opiates may be at play here.

Finally we have Piglet. I have to say this is probably the only character that I sort of like. Unfortunately, there is one fault to this petite farm animal. It's a gender bending little pig. I think it's the pink shirt that makes me think she's a girl, but after I pondered it a bit more, I realized that he could also be a boy. Children may associate with the wrong gender, thus making them feel that they need a sex change later in life.

The fact that the baby world is sponsored by Pooh is something I simply don't understand. Diapers, PJs, sippy cups, books, pacifiers, burb cloths, etc. I found it difficult to find non-Pooh PJs the other day. Is it assumed that all parents and their children like this cartoon critter? Obviously this mother doesn't. Does Pooh receive royalties every time his face is used? If so, that's one rich mogul of a bear.

I say manufacturers should leave animated characters off of their merchandise and allow parents to make their own decisions about which cartoons they'd like to endorse. I for one will boycott the Pooh franchise, even if it means that my daughter may need to go to bed in just a diaper because mommy can't find the appropriate Jessica approved pajamas.

luv, hugs, and a little pampering...

The diaper world is hard to navigate. There are a variety of different brands to choose from. Each mom seems to have a diaper of choice, leaving me no better off narrowing the field then I was before. It would be easiest to gauge these things if I could try them on myself, but first of all they're too small, and second of all when you're a potty trained adult, that would just feel wrong. You have to go by what happens when the baby wears them. I've discovered:

- Huggies seem to be the softest and look like they'd be the most comfortable, but the leg holes seem to have been the weak point during this test drive. Obviously, leg elastic is key in this case.

- Pampers look like a cheaper diaper and have a strange fuzzy texture to the outside, but on a wet dry run, they stood up quite well. And they also don't have Pooh on them, which is a much needed relief from the crazy Pooh sponsored baby world (but I'll save my anti-Pooh rant for another time).

- Luvs are a brand I didn't even think about. My mom asked about them, which means that these are old school diapers as my little brother is 19. The price of these things is fabulous, which is nice to see for a poo pouch. They feel thinner and smell a bit strange, but I've fallen in love with this brand. And they have Blue from Blues Clues on them (again, Anti-Pooh is key).

So I've decided on Luvs. But wait - there's more. Nightime diapers aren't like daytime diapers. Since the missus is sleeping longer now, it seems that there's a leak every morning. This means that the PJs and the sheet are shot (plus her dignity). The solution here? I need to revert back to the Pampers (see bullet two), but in size 2 versus 1 (a suggestion on the part of a few other mommies). While these things could go up to her armpits, it seems to do the trick. Makes sense now in retrospect.

In the end, we purchase Luvs for daytime, Pampers for nighttime. I secretly love that we've opted against Huggies (again, my Pooh aversion). I have noticed is that while most sizes (as in the height x width x depth size) stay the same as diapers get bigger, less diapers fit in the box/pouch, so while you get a bazillion diapers in the newborn pack, for the same price in the size 4 pack, you get a pair of diapers.

Between diapers and formula, this child is going to eat and poop us out of house and home. But of course, we can't let her go potty in her pants. And while she has a reserve of fat that could hold her over for a bit, she needs her liquid gold to drink too.

During sex ed in school, forget responsibility and STDs and such. They should simply make the kids buy diapers and formula for their hard boiled egg baby or flour baby for a month. That should teach 'em.

photo op...

We're finally getting tons of pictures of the little one with her eyes wide open (and they're such big, pretty eyes, aren't they?). I think one of these pictures even has a hint of a smile. The other one was shot so that it was cropped just right to remain PG. This will be one of those pictures that we'll show her boyfriends (but just a few boyfriends...we're not shooting for a promiscuous daughter here).

safety first...

I need to take a short disability break from blogging. Was trying to make a cucumber salad for me and the hubby yesterday. Was using one of those veggie slicers where you slide the veggie back and forth to make discs or whatever (it's a mandolin, but not sure that everyone would know what that is). It's "as seen on TV".

Anyway, it comes with a safety guard. I, apparently, am above that, so wouldn't you know that I just about sliced a finger into the cucumber salad? I'm sure that this may have required stitches, but I had a salad to finish, so I just kept wrapping more and more bandaids on it as each one bled through. Lesson learned...always use the safety guard...you're not that much better then everyone.

So, this post has hurt my hand a bit more, and that's no fun. I'll be back tomorrow. Enjoy the day, and see you Friday!

vote!...

Completely non-baby.

Get out there and vote today! The lines are long, but it's worth it, especially since PA is so critical in this election.

This year it feels like a red versus blue battle...Bloods vs. Crips. I'd sport the bandanna reflecting my gang affiliation, but that might result in a drive by shooting, and I can't risk that with a youngin'. I live out in the country...you can't underestimate the gun ownership rates. While they weapons are intended for deer and other game, if in the wrong hands, a gang war could ensue. Crossbows may even emerge. And sometimes, instead of wearing the gang colors of red or blue, they'll be decked out in camo and really catch you off guard.

So pick your side, wear your gang colors proud (though discreetly), and let's make this election one for the record books!

(FYI - I went to vote at 10am thinking that would be a quiet time...I was dead wrong...line went around the township building. Grab a coffee and a book before you go, but don't be discouraged!)

divide and conquer...

We're starting to get a routine down, and the pattern is broken down into routine tasks. Once I go back to work, we'll need to split certain baby chores between each other. I'm not sure we'll need a chore board complete with star stickers showing who has gotten what done, but if it comes to blows, I'll be the first to post one of those on the fridge.

Now, of course, this could definitely become an argument about who does what, who does more, who has harder chores, etc. Currently I am certain that I'm the star sticker champion by default, but that's not what I'm posting about. I'll save that rant for a later date if/when I have real evidence to back it up.

Baby care items seem to come in bunches. Whoever does bath time at night will get the lot of evening requirements. You have to prep the bath. Babies are fragile and can drown in an inch of water, so getting back up to grab the washcloth you forgot is not an option. The "poof" hanging in the shower probably isn't gentle enough, so I guess a sock can stand in in such a situation. After bath, put on the PJs. Then comes the bottle. I imagine you could put the evening bottle anywhere in this scenario, but you're supposed to allow 20 minutes after eating before swimming, so eating before bathing might result in cramping.

I guess whoever isn't bathing is the person that's packing. I can't wait to get the list of things the childcare centers want us to bring (I'm hoping there's a list, otherwise we'll be the negligent parents who were dumb enough to not provide certain items). Pack adult lunches. Prep bottles while that person is at it, since they'll be holed up in the kitchen for most of this time. Should this person also lay out adult and baby clothes too (those aren't in the kitchen, by the way.)? Oh goodness it's getting complicated.

We'll see who gets which chunk. I'm thinking Jamie gets the former while I'm blessed with the latter...much more planning and tactical work in the second, while the first is more general (but still very important, especially with those rolls that she's growing - can get lint and formula trapped in there).

I'm sure, as with anything, we'll find our niches and proceed accordingly. For now we'll pretend to pick one or the other (or I'll assign one or the other...that's more realistic) and see what our ultimate fate will be when the time comes.