Lucky little boy

I am so, so grateful that my son has a wonderful father who will be there for him his whole life. My father left when I was 13 and was never really around after that. In fact, he was never really around before he left. He was usually on business trips and when he was home, he was either asleep or locked in the bathroom. Or we wished he was asleep or locked in the bathroom.

Due to those experiences, one of my goals in life was to make sure my children had a father they could depend on. I know children can do fine without a father. My mother is one of the best women on earth, maybe THE best, and I marvel more and more everyday (especially since I’ve had my own child) at the bravery and sheer guts she displayed in striking out on her own and taking care of us. Luckily, she was only on her own a few years before my stepdad showed up, but she sacrificed a great deal for us before and after her remarriage and I will be forever grateful. Due to that example, I knew children could be great with a single parent and I might have gone that route if I had had to wait much longer for my husband.

Fortunately, my Prince Charming came along and now I have my beautiful baby boy. I finally have everything I really wanted (except possibly more kids, but we’ll wait a couple of years at least before we do anything about that). My baby boy has a terrific daddy AND he gets to have my mom for a grandmother. And those two are not the only wonderful family members he has. I think my son is set. (No pun intended.)

Random quote for the day

“Baby clothes keep falling out of my clothes.”

– Spoken to my husband as I attempted to get ready for postnatal yoga this morning

Three clumsiest things I’ve done this week (so far!)

1. Tried to eat some Smart Ones fettucine alfredo too fast (in order to finish before the baby’s next feeding) and flipped the fork out of my hand, hitting CC in the leg.

2. Knocked over a bottle of breast milk and spilled it all over the floor and a tote bag.

3. Stepped on Earl Grey’s paw.

What will happen next? More specifically, what will happen to Fudgie? He’s the only cat I haven’t managed to inadvertently injure this week. (Actually, they’re fine, thank goodness.)

Free to breast-feed

My son and I finally made it to our first postnatal yoga class today. I didn’t actually end up doing much yoga because my son, like most almost-two-month-olds, needs to eat every three hours. Also, he takes about 40 minutes to  nurse. I admit, this has kept me from attending the class before, because I didn’t want to spend most of it nursing instead of doing yoga. However, the writing is on the wall. I’m not going to be able to do anything unless I am willing to feed him during some part of it. So I went, but I took a bottle of breast milk with me, since he usually bottle-feeds quicker than he nurses.

My son has taken a bottle from me several times and he usually gets at least one a day from my husband, so that I can have a break. However, he wouldn’t take it today. So, since several other women were nursing their babies, I decided to go ahead and nurse him.

At first, I felt self-conscious nursing without a cover in public. However, I soon became completely comfortable with it. In fact, I felt liberated. Before I had a child, I was fine with women breast-feeding in public, although I assumed it would be best for them to cover themselves up, to avoid catching flack from people. I thought it must be easy to just toss a cover over yourself and the baby. I was wrong. I have a nursing cover. It is very difficult to get the child in and out of the cover without exposing yourself somehow anyway. You either have to flash people or place the child under there and then fumble with your clothes, blind and one-handed. Also, it is sweltering under there (I can only imagine what it feels like for my son.) and trying to get him latched back on  five thousand times while I can’t see him makes me want to pull my hair out.

Everyone says “breast is best.” They want all of the moms to breast-feed because it is better for the babies, but most people would prefer you stay trapped in the house for three months doing it. I’m sorry, but that is just not realistic. If people are going to get judgmental about a mom not breast-feeding, then they shouldn’t be judgmental about a mom doing it in public. A mom still has to have a life while breast-feeding, especially if she has other kids and/or a job. Plus, it’s better for both mom and baby if they aren’t trapped in the house 24/7. For the first time today, I didn’t feel limited by breast-feeding. I didn’t feel trapped. I actually felt like I was breast-feeding and living at the same time. I didn’t feel like I had to drop everything to feed my child. I didn’t have to stop my life. I was sharing my life with him.

Honestly, I think most moms probably aren’t self-conscious about nursing without a cover. At least, like me, they would find out they weren’t once they tried it. I think it is other people’s attitudes that make a mom self-conscious, rather than her own feelings. It’s not what the mom or baby is doing, but other people’s thoughts about breasts that are the problem. The fact is, I had to look really closely at the moms in class today to tell if they were nursing, even without covers. They were very discreet about it. They weren’t flashing their breasts around or letting them hang out when a child wasn’t latched to them. The fact is, our society is prudish and many think of breasts purely as sexual objects. Come on, people. It’s breast-feeding, not flashing your boobs to get Mardi Gras beads. And yet, some of the same people who probably pay money for those Girls Gone Wild DVDs, give nursing mothers dirty looks in public.

Slow and not so steady

I never thought it would be possible for me to take longer to leave the house than I did before my son was born. I was wrong. Before, I took too long because I would oversleep or meander around, giving in to my obsessive-compulsive tendencies and checking everything over and over. Now I get up two or three hours early, rush around madly, and am STILL sometimes late or miss whatever event I am trying to attend entirely.

Unexpected parenting dialogues

Me: The baby stuck out his tongue while I was kissing him today. Very bad timing.

Husband: Are you telling me you French-kissed our boy?

Me: Well, technically, HE french-kissed ME.


Mommy brain, part 2

I was gazing at my son’s perfect face today and suddenly I panicked. “He’s already almost a month old and we haven’t brushed his teeth!”, I thought in a panic. “We brush the cats’ teeth and even apply sealant to Earl Grey’s religiously once a week, but we have neglected our child’s dental hygiene!!” Then, reason and logic briefly held sway in my sleep-deprived brain. Newborns don’t have teeth. Riiiiggghht.

It’s a very cruel joke of Mother Nature’s that, at the time when we have a vulnerable new life to protect, we are so out of our minds with lack of sleep that we can’t walk straight or form a coherent thought. Last night, I forgot the first lines to two of my favorite Dixie Chicks songs I was attempting to sing to my son before he went to sleep. This morning, I banged my toes in to the wall on my way out of the kitchen yet again and blasphemed. Thank God the kid was across the room. Later on, I accidentally dropped a spoon on the coffee table and woke him up. I promptly followed that stunning feat by uttering the Queen Mother of Dirty Words. I said it under my breath, but he was much closer this time. (Did I forget to mention that being wakened every three hours or less to feed someone causes lack of patience and frustration as well as stupidity?) Not batting a thousand as a mom today. Maybe it is the lack of Starbucks. They really need to start delivering.

Mommy brain

A combination of baby love, which renders me unwilling and unable to think about much besides my baby boy and how crazy I am about him, and extreme fatigue, are making it impossible for me to think of anything to write about. Except for the fact that I can’t think of anything. Hopefully, I will get more sleep tonight and come at you with something more scintillating tomorrow. However, the delirium from being barely able to keep my eyes open is actually somewhat pleasant. Maybe I want to keep it.

It’s amazing how, no matter how tired I am, if I am at all worried about my little one, I can’t seem to go to sleep. That has been the problem the past few nights. He has hit a growth spurt and, consequently, changed his schedule on me. The past few nights, he has eaten at about 9:30 and then not woken up for 4 or 5 hours. My husband and I are still night owls, so we often stay up until the usual three-hour gap between feedings has elapsed at 12:30. However, he has skipped that feeding the past two nights. We would try to go to bed once we realized he was going to skip it, but I would be too keyed up, worrying that I should get up and feed him, because (and here’s the kicker) he would wake up, but not want to eat. He would take the pacifier, but kept spitting it out. I ask you, what kind of newborn wakes up at night and doesn’t want to eat??? And then plays fetch with his poor, tired, addle-brained parents??? (If you’re wondering how I was managing to even try and sleep, my wonderful husband was the one fetching the pacifier over and over.)

Essentially, we have missed out on a good 5 or 6 hours of consecutive sleep the past few nights. If you have ever been a new parent, especially a breast-feeding mom, you know how precious that is. I am going to try and out-smart him tonight by going to bed as soon after the 9:30 feeding as possible. I have a feeling I may have met my match, though. We’ll see.


Why buttne (butt +acne) is never listed as part of the aftermath of pregnancy and childbirth in ANY of the books. I can’t be the only one.

Fun with servers

It was really fun to tell the server at Chili’s tonight that I’m five days overdue. Her eyes got so big! I’m going to tell as many people as possible until the baby comes. In fact, I might get a T-shirt made or a sign to hang around my neck. This is unexpectedly awesome.

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