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Brush With Fame

15 Jul

Wow.  Wow.  On a day when Seabass just CANNOT pull it together and has me chasing my tail in desperation, I’ve just been given a little pick-me-up.  It’s like I’ve made contact with Steven Spielberg or Chuck Norris or something.  Check it out:

Hello, please pardon the intrusion. I’m Mike Gatten, inventor of Miracle Blanket. Your blog was brought to my attention because of your mention of the Miracle Blanket. (And a great job telling your story I might add!) I can’t thank you and others enough for helping us spread the word because people just don’t believe us when we tell them it might be “this easy.” That’s why word-of-mouth has been the biggest source of growth for us since day one.

To show our gratitude I’d like to send you a free Miracle Blanket.

Please contact Susan in Marketing and let her know what color you would like.

And again, thank you very much.

Mike

Mike, from all the mommies of crazy colicky babies, thank you.  Your product kicks serious swaddle blanket heiney.

And sheesh, I guess people really do read mom blogs.

Hello, please pardon the intrusion. I’m Mike Gatten, inventor of Miracle Blanket. Your blog was brought to my attention because of your mention of the Miracle Blanket. (And a great job telling your story I might add!) I can’t thank you and others enough for helping us spread the word because people just don’t believe us when we tell them it might be “this easy.” That’s why word-of-mouth has been the biggest source of growth for us since day one.

To show our gratitude I’d like to send you a free Miracle Blanket.

Please contact Susan in Marketing and let her know what color you would like. Susan@MiracleBlanket.com or (214) 675.0539 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting (214) 675.0539 end_of_the_skype_highlighting.

And again, thank you very much.

Mike

No offense, you hippies

7 Jul

The family bed of our fears

You’ll notice a lot of my posts begin with the words “Before we had Seabass, we thought….”  Why not add another to the pile?

No offense, but BEFORE WE HAD SEABASS, WE THOUGHT people who did “the family bed” were hippie Phish-listening weirdos.  (Really, no offense.)  There is that amazing scene in “Away We Go” where Maggie Gyllenhaal’s character describes the importance of a “continuum” from inside the womb to outside the womb which includes a bed for the whole family.  So…we basically didn’t want to be like that.  Just the crib for this here Seabass.  Yup, yup.

“Ha ha ha!” said God. “This will be the first in a series of many preconceived ideas which I will dash to the ground.”

The first night home from the hospital with our boy was rough.  I would do my best to soothe him to sleep for about 30 to 45 minutes before laying him down ever so gently.   But from his reaction to being placed in the crib, you’d think his sheets were burning hot baby-melting lava.  He just wouldn’t have it.  I’d try this for hours to no avail.

It was undeniable at this point that C preferred falling asleep close to my body.  Since he fell asleep almost immediately while nursing, I finally became so loony that I decided it was perfectly reasonable to sit in the rocking chair with him at the breast all night long.  Parenting’s all about sacrifice, right? I thought.  So for several nights, I sacrificed.  Until I woke up one morning with C drooping halfway out of my arms and saw that my ankles had swelled to the size of tree trunks.  Perhaps this is the wrong kind of sacrifice? I wondered.

Now, if I was reasonably anti-family bed before having C, Jake was violently anti-bed.  So it took a lot of courage to come to him with my little request.  When I asked if Seabass could share the bed with us, his mind raced forward to imagine our baby as a fifteen year-old who still cuddles up between us every night.  “For how long?” was his first question.

“I don’t know, until we see if it helps.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hey man, I’m the one with the elephant ankles.  Can we just try it?”

Since my husband is a loving, caring man, he said yes with the caveat that we re-assess at the one-month mark.

There was still one major issue to resolve: our bed.  We have slept in the full-sized bed I grew up with for the majority of our marriage because 1) it was free, 2) it’s pretty and I care about that sort of thing, and 3) we own sheets that fit it.  I’m aware that many people who try family bed are afraid of rolling over their newborns while sleeping, but frankly, I was more afraid that one of us adults would roll off the bed than onto the baby.  We tried family bed on the full-sized mattress for two nights, but neither Jake nor I slept much more than a wink.

It must have worked somewhat like sleep deprivation torture because on that third morning Jake woke up and announced that we were going to buy a brand new big bed.  I can’t emphasize enough how out of character this was for Jake.  No offense to my wonderful husband, but he is very cheap.  For him to buy a new bed so that the baby could sleep in it with us made me wonder if he was feeling alright.  But I jumped on the opportunity nonetheless.  Yay for new furniture!  Yay!  Yay!

The new queen-sized bed, mattress and box springs arrived just a few short hours later from a discount furniture place in town, and Jake scrambled to get the old bed out and the new bed in quickly thereafter.  To our surprise, the first night in the new bed was almost equally difficult as in the full-sized, though, as C grunted in that half-awake, half-asleep gassy state from sundown to sunrise.

“At least we have more space,” I reasoned.

“Yeah, but I don’t even feel like we’re allowed to enjoy our new bed,” lamented Jake.

The next night I assumed would be like the handful of nights before.  I nursed C in bed and then laid him as deftly and quietly as possible between Jake and I so that he could hopefully fall asleep.  But no.  With my first move, he writhed and cried.  Here we go again, I thought.  Jake had been seeming a bit zombie-ish from a lack of sleep lately, so I decided to bring C with me into the nursery to put a few walls between his crying and Jake’s ears.

I soothed and rocked and swung and bounced Seabass until I feared my arms might collapse.  But when he finally conked, I had this silly notion that maybe, just maybe, he’d sleep in the crib.  Call it my first case of mother’s intuition.

And wouldn’t you know it?  That cheeky little bugger slept five hours in the crib that night.  He hasn’t enjoyed our brand new family bed since.  But I’ll take it.  I’ve got a kid who loves to sleep in his own room and a new swingin’ piece of furniture.

ADDENDUM: Not two minutes after I wrote this, a friend posted this article on Facebook.  What timing!

Good Stuff #2: Miracle Blanket aka “Back in the Swaddle Again”

5 Jul

A mom in my moms’ group recently shared that she was having a hard time getting her newborn baby down to sleep.  “I have to walk laps and laps around the house to get her to calm down.  I’m running out of energy.”

“Have you tried the Miracle Blanket?” one of us asked.  When she replied in the negative, we accosted her with exclamations on the benefits of a tight swaddle for getting baby to sleep.  A little shell-shocked, she shared that her baby didn’t like being swaddled.

Once again, a cry arose from our group.  “No, no, no,” we wailed.  “It only looks like she doesn’t want to be swaddled.  Give it another chance.”

Miracle blanket?  Swaddle?  What the heck is she talking about? For those of you unfamiliar with these lofty terms, the Miracle Blanket is a special blanket that bundles baby up so tightly that his/her arms and legs are kept from moving or escaping the tight wrap, or swaddle.  This is critical during the early months when baby insists on hitting him/herself in the face for no apparent reason.

When I was registering for baby stuff months ago, a friend advised that I include the Miracle Blanket in my list, though I didn’t really know why I should.  I had rarely ever held a baby – much less swaddled one – so I simply didn’t understand the genius that is those magical flaps inside a long oval of jersey knit.

When we brought li’l Seabass home from the hospital, our first attempt at employing the Miracle Blanket was less than impressive.  We bent over the crib, frantically alternating between looking at our wailing baby and the instructions for the blanket.

“It says the flap goes here.”

“No the flap goes here.

“Are you sure?!?  Look at the DIAGRAM!”

And I admit, it didn’t always look like C was too thrilled to be in his little baby straightjacket.  But once Jake became really proficient at swaddling him up, our sweet baby became perceptibly calmer inside it.  I guess it has something to do with his being accustomed to close quarters in the womb.  Upon seeing C swaddled up like a mummy, visitors often remark that he must be claustrophobic in there.  (Ah, the opinions of others.  How they cut to the quick!)  I even had one visitor come over and ask to hold C, only to unswaddle him behind my back while I ran (RAN) to the restroom.  Her logic?  “He can’t be comfortable.  There’s just no way.”

But he is.  Swaddled is Seabass’ sleep style of choice, and thus, his Miracle Blanket is already starting to show some wear and tear.  If ever it gets soiled, there is a panic in the house as to how quickly we can launder it for C’s sleeping pleasure.  And we’re so cheap that we’ve only just begun to consider buying a second blanket for $39.00.  Seriously, they’re that expensive.  And seriously, they’re worth every penny.