The Wide Hip Curse or All in God's Plan

So I have a theory, but I need to back up a little.

As soon as I saw that fuzzy 2nd line on the pregnancy test I knew it would be awhile before I could fit into some of my favorite clothes again... like 10 months, right? I mean I'm young- my body will just snap back in place like one of those Stretch Armstrong toys. (Forget that I have the exact same muscle tone as it too) So I lovingly and with the early pregnancy excitement that I wish I could go back and just smack off my face pack up these clothes.

Ahh these clothes- the symbols of my youth. As my fingers carefully fold the glittery leopard print pants and sadly yes ,matching halter (no, I didn't wear them together at least not all the time) I recollect fondly on the memories they evoke. In every day, I am actually a fairly conservative dresser (thank you Catholic nun led schooling for pounding into me that the flesh is evil and dirty) but when I would go out to bars or parties I let loose a little- ya know, take the sisters out for a night on the town.

Well needless to say I was slightly over optimistic when I thought I would return to prepregnancy me a month after birth. And, of course, by 'slightly' I mean 'REALLY'.
But now, 13 months later I am finally back to my college weight which is good because I had gained quite a bit of weight during law school- I blame their Final Exam Candy Bowls of Evil. Anyway, so after months of carefully watching what I eat and diligently exercising I’ve shed the weight. Haha, I couldn't even write that without laughing- no I don't have time to eat anything but the scraps off my daughter's plate (and she eats like a Viking) and then I spend the rest of the day chasing her giggling butt around while trying to keep her from drawing on the dog, but I digress.

So WAHOO. I'm college weight right so I'm going to drag out all those memories and put them on just to remind myself how hot and sexy I used to be... alright! I pull out my favorite pants ever... black faux leather low rise. If you knew me in college you will remember these. I wore them ALL THE TIME. I skanked them up with a halter and blue eyeliner for the bars and I dressed them down with a sweater for class. (just writing that makes me shake my head in shame) I rip off my awesome eeyore sweats (college AND law school friends will also remember these) and slip them on. Wait, they seem to be stuck on something...namely my hips. I can't pull them up. This makes no sense. I am the same weight that I was the last time I wore these! NOTHING HAS CHANGED!! Then in the distance (and thanks to baby monitor, in the closeness too) a baby cries. Sighing, I yank them down to attend to baby and begin to ponder this.

So here's the theory....chances are very very high that had I fit into those pants this morning I would have worn them to storytime at the library, and the grocery store, and the park (I bet the plastic-y faux leather would have been AWESOME going down the slide) Given this unavoidable temptation- I think my pants magically not fitting is all God's way of saying "mothers don't wear faux leather pants that show their thongs" The new bulges on my hips are nature's literal speed bumps designed to say " whoa mom, let's rethink those jeans that lace up the side." God, in his infinite wisdom, has created a very effective way of making sure the keepers of civilization, the molders of humanity, the bearers of the next generation don't go around showing off their tits and asses. How can we be models of everything that is right with the human race if we are showing whale tale?

Now, some mothers have worked around this natural way of things by going out and buying their prepreg, party clothes but in the NEXT size up. This is simply laughing in the face of God and they will be smited and punished probably by ending up on People of Walmart.com like this..
There are also mothers who 6 weeks postpartum just slide right back into those rhinestone capris without any difficulty or mysterious bulges... those women are freaks of nature. Sorry, but it’s true. By being able to wear all those un-mom clothes they are clearly going against God's plan and frankly, probably sold their souls in order to do it.


* This is not to say that mothers should not be sexy or dress fun, but there needs to be a new sexy, a new fun... Tigger instead of Eeyore or something...

Well if it isn't Mr. Mary Poppins

I'll start by saying that I have no idea what I do with my day. I wake up with a head full of plans and somehow end the day with the house just as messy, laundry just as undone, dinner just as uncooked, but somehow I am EXHAUSTED. Okay, yes I do chase after a very active and demanding 1 year old all day. So I feel hey as long as I keep her alive, decently fed, and not screaming the entire day I have actually accomplished quite a lot, right? It annoys me to no end when my darling husband seems bewildered when he comes to a total mess with nothing accomplished (except for happy fed baby, of course). He isn't mad, just confused. Ok hot shot you do it if you think it's so easy...

This week I had a very important appointment to attend that required getting ready, looking good, and being on time. So, of course, husband takes over baby care in the morning while I am gone. Now, I love baby and I love husband, but there is a tiny tiny angry troll part of me that hopes baby acts like her true demonic self and he can get a taste of my mornings. I secretly hope that I will come home to a dirty naked little maniac running around a house that is one piece of junk mail away from being declared a state of emergency with a frenzied exhausted husband covered in baby's breakfast and possibly some baby poo. (I know, I am cruel and awful- no surprise there) I cackle gleefully at this image especially the part where husband sees me, falls to his knees, and begs me to never leave the house again and later returned home with a dozen roses and his eternal praise over my superior mothering ability......
(you know where this is going)
I get home and wait for the deluge of complaints and praise- what's that noise? Oh, its silence… followed by a giggle. Oh, maybe she somehow figured out how to tie him to a stake and I am just in time to save him! I look down to carefully step over the toys and other random junk on the floor and I almost trip over the nothingness. There is nothing on the floor.... WE'VE BEEN ROBBED!!! I run into the kitchen... the robber took all of our dirty dishes!!! And cleaned up the counter... wait a minute. I look through the clear window (formerly covered in sticky handprints and dog boogers) and see my husband pushing a laughing, fully dressed baby in the swing. He is also dressed and sadly not covered in any kind of filth.

Fastforward past my confusion and disappointment. Apparently, Mr. Wonderful not only took really awesome care of baby, but he also managed to tackle my to- do list... you know the one that I have been chipping away at for oh I don't know-a YEAR! WTF!!! Ok, now I know what you are thinking- geez you ungrateful wench I would love it if my husband was able to clean AND take care of the baby. No, you wouldn't- you think you would, but you wouldn't. You would feel just as horrible as I felt. Not only can husband keep baby better fed, better dressed and happier, but he can also do it AND freaking clean the mountains of mess that have piled up during my reign of neglect. Now I have done an amazing job thus far protecting myself from "supermoms". I relish in the fact that my friends seem to have just as tough a time as I do- in fact if any of them behaved as husband did I would immediately cut them out of my life. (Digression, if any of my friends are actually Supermom they have the good sense to hide it and complain just as much as I do AND I think they are actually pretty super anyway)
Back to husband who has morphed into some horrible combination of Mary Poppins and Mr. Clean. I have no idea how he did it- then it occurs to me... he knew about this appointment two weeks ago. That is PLENTY of time to make the necessary preparations. I bet as soon as I pulled out of the driveway a van full of little Merry maids pulled up and got right to work and a brunette Julie Andrews came down our chimney and immediately worked her babycare magic... no wonder he looked so refreshed- I bet the bastard got a nap in as well. Yea, now it makes sense. Phew, and there I was thinking he did it all on his own and that I was somehow horrifically inadequate. Ha! Well, I feel better.....

Move over Justin Biever-whatever your name is...

Turns out I am an international sensation! Ok not really, but I did notice that every now and then someone who isn't me or my immediate small group of friends stumble upon my page and sometimes they are from another country! This is completely exciting and just sort of awesome...

Are you, my international fanbase, actually reading my posts? or is it accidental and you immediately click off it? I sort of fear that "Navigating the Bump" actually just mistranslates into something awesome in your languages... If so, please god let it not be about that Bieber kid!

I hope its that other people, besides those who know and tolerate me, are actually enjoying my blog because I am looking for an International Fanclub to form, hehe....

All self-centered jokes aside, I would really like to know-

1) where you are from

2) if you meant to click on my blog and read it :)

Thanks!!

Stillness

In the world of motherhood just when you have a bad day where you spend moments wishing you could throw on some glitter high heels and go out clubbing (before realizing, of course, that clubbing makes my head hurt, slimey club men make me want a shower and glitter high heels give me blisters) you wake up to a completely different world.

a little background- my daughter is, like every other baby her age, teething. Also like other babies she is not handling it well. We tolerate it during the day mostly because she is a happy go lucky baby that is easily distracted from her pain... nighttime is a different story.

For the last several nights, she has woken up around 1 ish screaming in pain. Like any other mother this is heartbreaking (and annoying- seriously Mr. Tooth JUST COME THROUGH ALREADY AND CEASE THIS TORTURE!!)

so I break all the rules about night time waking and rock her and shh her until her tylenol kicks in (god bless you painkillers!) She finally falls asleep in my arms (I know, bad mommy, breaking sleep training rules!)

Its this moment that I love the most about being a mother. Yea, Awake Baby is a lot of fun and her smiles and giggles are precious but her daddy gets those too. This moment, this silent golden moment of complete contentment, is mine alone. No one has seen this moment, but me. Just us in her room the nightlight casting its gentle amber glow. My beautiful daughter snuggled against my chest, breathing softly (ok snoring)with the faintest hint of a contented smile on her face. It brings me back to those early blissful days when I just held her after she dozed into her milk coma (ok I was terrified to wake her but recollection softens those memories). Outside, nothing moves, not even the wind. Inside the only movement is slow sway of my rocking chair. Everywhere around us is stillness and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Mommy Reviewer

Since everyone cares ohh so much about my thoughts and opinions, I decided that I am going to read books and then blog about them. I really feel this is the next logical step in my path towards total self-importance. So I guess stay tuned- I'm checking a bunch of stuff out of the library and I have tofind time to read it.....

Curse of the Stay At Home*

So during my daily morning routine of checking a certain social media website I can't help but to notice how awesome and exciting other people's lives seem. I can't help feeling like I am accomplishing nothing. Yea yea yea I know I am "molding a human being" my job "is the most important in the world" blah blah. Yes it is completely true that being a mother is the most important and most rewarding job on the face of this earth, but it sure doesn't seem like that somedays. I think this is the curse of the stay at home.

Whether you are home by choice (lucky you) or because no one wants to hire you (sighhhhh), there is still the nagging feeling that you aren't doing anything. Yea, in the long term a mother is accomplishing more than a Nobel Prize winnning scientist. The long term result of the daily readings of Dr. Suess and endless patty cake is pretty amazing. Yet, it doesn't feel that way when each day feels like its just the same mindless tasks on the to-do or fatigue-inducing toddler entertainment. It is hard to see the forest through the trees. Regardless of how busy I am and how entirely drained I am at the end of the day I still somehow feel as though I have accomplished nothing!!! You know that saying "a woman's work is never done" (first of all, it should be a "mother's work") well the saying is true. It doesn't matter how many dishes I washed, how many meals were prepared, or how many gross 'my god what did she eat' diapers I change- the next day I just start all over again as though my hardwork didn't do anything. Why bother washing the floor when not 30 seconds after I put the mop away my darling daughter throws her plate of cantalope on it? The only thing I successfully put away permanently is that bag of chips, but that's only because it found a new home in my tummy....

A friend recently asked how motherhood was and since she's a pretty good friend I decided to be honest. My response? It is like trying to dig a hole in the sand entirely too close to the waves. Everytime you make a little progress whoosshhh the wave washes it away and you are left feeling as though you did nothing, but just like motherhood after hours upon hours of doing this over and over you have AMAZINGLY strong arms and sand everywhere. (I'll let you ponder that last part)

Ultimately, motherhood is rewarding, I guess. I just have to keep repeating it to myself- Every diaper, every painstakingly diced up piece of food, every nighttime wake-up call brings her one tiny unsteady step towards adulthood. Everyday that I diligently chase after her, patiently pick up everything that she drops again and again, and realistically fake enthusiasm for yet another game of patty cake she is becoming a better human being. and God help her if she doesn't include me in her Nobel Prize acceptance speech!




* I am sure this feeling is not limited to Stay at Homes, but I can only write what I know (or at least can reasonably convince you that I know)

My kid's name is better than your kid's name*

At first I was feeling a little guilty that I expressed such disgust at our college friend's new baby's name to my husband. I won't mention it here but think whore... of BIBLICAL proportions. I judge my friends' choices of names all the time. This is probably why they refuse to tell me until I am actually holding little Albert or Samoa. I don't just judge randomly I have rules

1- If you aren't pregnant and you tell me any possible offspring names you will get my complete uncensored opinion. Case in point- Our friends decided that if they were going to have twin girls they would name them Rose and Scarlet and I said "oh so you will be giving birth to a stripper and an 80 year old lady?' (I am pretty sure I stole that joke from somewhere...)

2- if you are pregnant and you ask my opinion. I'll still be really honest but probably way more edited.

3- if we are close friends I'll share my opinion even if I'm not asked

4- if we aren't good friends I'll probably just mock your choice behind your back.

So really if I tell you I hate your intended name its just like a Hallmark card saying how close I feel to you....

Anyway a couple thoughts about names...
1- Ok yea everyone says "oh it doesn't matter as long as you like it". No! That's wrong its not a paint color for your wall its your kid's NAME. You are saddling your kid with a name for the rest of his/her life. My opinion now is probably going to be the same as many other people's opinions later... and really what other people think DOES count. Chances are if you name your kid "Wolf" or "Danger" people will assume(unfairly but probably accurately) that your kid is a little sh*t.

2- opinions are just that. Just because I happen to hate aliteration when it comes to names...doesn't mean its a bad choice; it might just mean you have a crazy friend.

3- Preggos are crazy and what sounds good to them (ie pickles and ice) may not actually go together. So if your children's names sound like you are secretly forming your own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle group, I am probably going to mention that... :)
Sidenote- this is a true story, but the crisis (in my opinion, of course) was averted in this case and dearest friend chose a way better name that doesn't make me want to call her Master Splinter- I only tease her now because both her kids have pretty kick ass names

4- I am a firm believer in 'don't dish it if you can't take'. My child's name is CRAZY en vogue right now. I get it. She will be one of 8 with that name in her class. Lots of people told me this lots of time, but it's ok. A- I loved the name way before it became popular. B-I grew up never being able to find a sticker (magnet, mug etc) with my name and that made me sad. So I am sparing my child that particular pain. So I appreciate your opinions, I will take them under advisement, now why on earth are you naming your kid that name?

The birth board... oh my how I love thee. (Please see earlier post) So preggo birth boarders ALWAYS post their ideas for names and for some reason, as if just to tempt me, they have TERRIBLE choices. So I tell them. Totally unedited. Because heck they are strangers and I use up all my niceness on people I actually care about...

I really lucked out though because my closest friends have all, in the end, given their kids names that, even if I wouldn't make it my first choice, I actually really like and really seem to fit the particular kid and when it comes down to it "your kid is going to be too pretty for that name" really isn't a bad thing to say to anyone....

* The title is, of course, a joke. Please don't get in a tizzy- despite the fact that I seem to think I know everything, I don't actually know your kid's name and therefore can't compare it to my kid's name. (Although my kid's name is pretty kick a$s and probably IS better than your kid's)

Garage Sale-ing

So there really isn't too much you can do with a 1 year. Turns out people REALLY judge you when you bring your toddler into a strip club... Also how many "mommy and me" and "library story times" can one sane(questionable) person handle?? More on my loathing of "mommy and me" activities later...
Anyway

What started as a Craigslist hunt for cheap outdoor baby toys somehow violently morphed into a garage sale-ing obsession.

I wonder if garage sales are exclusively American? It seems like something we would do... let's put all of our trash that we painstakingly collected over the years but don't want anymore out on our front lawns for stangers to paw through and haggle over 50 cents just so that in 2 years or so those same strangers will turn around and sell the same thing to a new batch of hagglers... and who says we don't recycle??
For the record, my aunt is one of those people. She goes to garage sales haggles over the last penny and then the NEXT weekend sells the crap for a profit. Part of me thinks my cousin should start checking out some elder-care options for her but a larger part thinks "that is f-ing brilliant". She apparently makes a nice tidy little profit and I think she is addicted to the rush of both scamming the idiot seller who doesn't know the worth of his treasures AND the unsuspecting idiot purchaser who is overpaying for crap....

but I digress
So I live on a corner that will often have those bright neon garage sale signs planted on Thursday evenings. Speaking of which- why do Garage sales start on fridays?? DIGRESSION- This makes me think it is really intended for retirees and stay at homes since we get the head start. Actually it is quite the competition between those two groups because the head start is on the side of the retiree who wakes up at 3 am (on account of them having eaten dinner at 4 pm the previous day) so they are THERE ready to go in their cars waiting for the sale the start. However, the stay at homes have the athletic edge we wear our sneakers and our yoga pants and the physical rigors of child rearing have primed our bodies.

Back to me- so it started with re-routing our morning walks to pass by these sales. A couple of really really awesome purchases later I am totally hooked. I quickly spiraled from looking up the garage sales in the local paper to using Google © Maps to plot out my targets. I leave the house bright and early (gotta beat those retirees) armed with my plotted out map, a detailed city street map, and my baby.

The biggest high is when I go “off map”. (Sigh just typing that makes me realize how much of a loser I am…) Anyway going “off map” is, of course, when you are interrupted from your plotted out map because you see one of those neon garage sale beacons and you start driving hither and yon to go find it and THEN you get there and A) no one is there be/c their advertising strategy harkens back to the early 90s B) there is AMAZING stuff and since they are obviously still in the 90’s the crap is priced from that era! I get a tingle just writing about it...

I also really love haggling. There is something about saving 25 cents that just does it for me. I know its ridiculous but it really is just awesome.
And before you go calling that hoarding show- its not like I buy a bunch of stuff. I am actually really discerning about my purchases and usually only come home with 1 or 2 things.

So that’s my sad sad little tale of entertainment. Before you comment on how lame I am I’m going to beat you to the punch like a fat comedian. I am WELL AWARE this is ridiculous and lame. But hey don’t knock it til you try it…

Catch-up

So I have a bunch of unedited pregnancy posts that have never been posted. That probably makes for a crappy Pregnancy Blog- so give that my daughter just passed her birthday I figure I'll go back and start publishing those posts.


The take-away is that if you are so inclined please go back periodically and see what's "new" (or rather old) sorry

Babyproofing

Babyproofing is one of those words that you mention among parenting peers that always get that sympathetic nod of mutual understanding. Some people take the bull by the horns and babyproof their entire house at the dawning of the third trimester- I don't actually recommend this because that babyproof houdini toilet lock is a pregnant bladder's nememsis. Some people wait and buy all the babyproofing equipment after the first accident occurs which seems to defeat the purpose in my opinion. My husband and I fall into the thirs category 'do what you can when it seems necessary'. At the first sign of imminent crawling we went out and bought everything we could foreseeably need as our daughter gets more mobile. Things like baby gates and outlet covers were added right away. We also bought what I will call 'World's Best Thing Ever' a play yard. Not a play yard like a play pen no this is more like a kennel.

TIP- originally we bought ours at a well known baby speciality store but then I found it for 25 bucks cheaper in the pet section of our equally well known hardware store.

The brand is the name but one sold at the baby store featured a baby on the box whereas cheaper pet one showed a dog- eh when it comes down to it really what is the difference between a dog and a baby? We also bought such essentials like a stove guard and a fridge lock. Right now she is too short to reach either so those are packed away.

Now I am very fortunate in that I have the time to be able to follow my baby around and see what types of things need babyproofing. This is a full time job in and of itself. So I go around seeing all the drawers, cabinets and doors she can open and I put little yellow post-its on them- both as a reminder for me as well as a 'to do' for my husband. Genius me apparently could not predict that Ava would be even more attracted to the drawers, cabinets and doors now that there are bright yellow post-its on them. Now I have a baby covered in post-its and no convenient 'to do' markers for my husband.

Baby proofing fail.

I can't be the only one...

who thinks its weird to take pictures of your food and then post it on the internet, right? It seems everytime I manage to escape my warden.. errr precious precious child and actually go out to eat someone around me is taking pictures of their food! I just don't get it- seriously I don't care how yummy your food is or how picturesque it looks... its just weird.

But since EVERYONE is doing it- like one of my dearest friends see blog- http://thefoodlife-bykaty.tumblr.com/ Ok now 1- She is actually cooking this stuff not just ordering from a restaurant and taking pictures 2- she takes really good pictures. But I digress...

so since everyone is raving about this new thing to do, I am going to put on the Emperor's New Clothes and try it.

OHHHHH Macaroni and Cheese homemade with spinach OOHHHH

Ok actually this one is really good- its fake crabmeat, grapes and French dressing... sounds gross, but surprisingly delicious! AND you gotta admit that picture is pretty darn good.

hmmm I don't really feel any change now that I've shared my gastro-adventures with you

Website of the Week

In pursuit of cooking dinners that are fast, cheap and convenient- Here is my favorite website for this week. http://www.prevention.com/recipefinderlandingpage/ Play around with it a little. You can enter your location and get recipes based on a food group (meat, eggs, veggies etc) and then it tells you what the prices of that item in stores around your location. And its Prevention magazine so the recipes are healthy. AWESOME!

But I'm a new mom.....

I wonder how long "I just had a baby" will last as an excuse.  So far the current record holder is my mother with her "of course Im overweight- I had a baby" nevermind her youngest is approaching 30.... but I digress.  I believe the new mom excuse should be considered a complete pass.  For example- I get my vehicle sticker renewal in the mail. It says clear as day if I pay later than 10-31 I have to pay more... ok so I have like two months.... unfortunately I totally miss the line above also clear as day "expiration 9-30".... reading fail.  Fortunately, there is a DMV where I can handle this particular issue in person which is good because I doubt the cop giving me the ticket for expired plates would accept "but Im a new mom and didn't read the expiration

date"

Another area a complete pass should work is with lawn care. This is more a pass for my husband but hey he's a new dad and god knows I'm not letting him sleep if I can't. yea, I am just THAT mean. (sleep deprivation makes me vengeful) Anyway, in our small town apparently city officials have nothing better to do than take a ruler to our front yard and measure our weeds. So, of course, we are not keeping up on our yard work what with the new monumental task of keeping a newborn alive, so we get a letter from the city "informing" us that we need to cut our weeds as they have exceeded the 8 inch maximum and if we don't by X date they will do it for us. Not as a favor, of course, they would charge us and of course that AIN'T cheap when the city does it. Sigh- I feel it is completely legitimate for my husband to have called them and explained "but I'm a new dad..." I mean hell I gave him a new shirt that says it and everything!

So that's it for today hopefully I'll get a chance to write more tomorrow but of course I'm a new mom...

Thought of the Day

As I sit here wondering where I can get cheesecloth in order to make my own yogurt- I realize that perhaps if one cannot seem to find time to shower one should just get their yogurt as God intended.. in a small container at the store.

# 127 of Things Not to Do While Tired

It is best to be at least somewhat rested when attempted to use your breast pump.... Instead of turning the dial all the way to the left to turn it off- I turned it all the way to the right.. very quickly... I now resemble one of those women you see on the cover of National Geographic....

Clash of the Titans

The moment the doctor placed a squalling bundle of joy on my chest said I just delivered a girl she matter as well have just said "Congrats, you just delivered a living terror who will do endless battle with you from this day forward. Of course, I love my child more than anything but I knew that my daughter would inevitably inherit certain personality traits from me- unbreakable willpower, unreserved and free flowing opinions and the total willingness to compromise and since the fates would conspire against me- the complete inability to see logic and reason (inherited, of course, from her father). Sure enough not yet 6 weeks into her young life and we have already butt heads.. I think she should sleep; she disagrees. I knew this would happen. I can easily see myself years down the road battling my daughters will...
" no, little 8 year old daughter, we are not getting a pony"

"hell no, 14 year old apple of my eye, you cannot get a tattoo"

"Absolutely not, 17 year old precious gem, I will not let you out of your room so you can run off and marry that tattooed long haired freak named Dirk and I dont care he has a motorcycle and a part time job at target"

As you can see I fully anticipated some epic battles in the future. What I was completely unprepared for is for my daughter's little iron will to present itself so early. I always considered baby cries to be so cute and sometimes she will cry in such a way that break my heart, but more often than not she will clench her fists look at me and bust out this high pitched yell. Its not a cry because its just one sustained sound like an angry troll shriek. Our biggest battles center around pacifiers, tummy time and eating.

I heard babies sometimes have preferences for pacifiers... I was unprepared for the fact that there would be one ONE type of pacifier my daughter will allow. Any attempts to trick her will be met with her swift form of justice- spitting the offensive pacifier out and yelling that troll yell while angrily shaking her fists. Who knew that a tiny 6 week old could force two grown adults to run around at 3 am desperately searching for THE pacifier (yes we have since gotten more than one) She wins this round

As a nursing mother I am entirely under my daughter's minuscule thumb when it comes to eating. She says when and how long. I knew this when I signed up for "on demand" feedings I did not sign up for a middle of the night Reign of Terror. Instead of one long sustained chow session she has the propensity to treat my breasts as an all you can eat buffet. You know how it works.. you go to the buffet gorge for a couple minutes sit back relax and then go back.. repeat several times all in a gluttonous attempt to get your money's worth. Several times a night she will demurely eat and fall sound asleep after 4 minutes only to wake up an hour later screaming for more. This sh*t may have been acceptable when her tummy was the size of a marble but I will not have this! I am determined to end this tit tyranny! Unfortunately the only option is to just ignore these plaintive cries for nourishment... I steel myself to attempt this- however, the little wench has convinced my breasts to defect onto her side causing the traitorous orbs to gush like Niagara at any attempts to ignore her demands.... This round also goes to her.

tummy time.... sigh. This is our epic battle. I know she needs it if she is ever going to be a functioning being, she refuses to see the logic in this argument and screams bloody murder the second her round little tummy hits her way too expensive, animals of the world, sensory stimulating, activity mat. I can really only tolerate about 30 seconds of this noise before I pick her up and cuddle her against my now soaking wet shirt and am immediately rewarded with a sly grin and despotic giggle...

we have, at least for now, reached a detente of sorts. I wake up and feed her as many times as she would like and she responds to my insistence on tummy time, not with angry screaming that makes my ears bleed but rather with passive resistance.. she immediately falls asleep and is peaceful as can be... I guess thats the Ghandi response of the baby world.....

Back off or I will rip your face off

Since having a child I feel a new found sympathy and camaraderie towards those mother grizzlies that attack seemingly innocent hikers that gets within 50 yards of their cubs. I never thought I would be over protective to the point of near physical violence but somehow that switch gets turned on. My husband has not been immune to similar feelings of papa bearness. It wasnt two days after we got our precious miracle home that we needed to venture out back into the germ infested hospital. We bundled her up and protectively carried her in her covered carseat between us walking remarkably quickly to our destination. As we make our way through the hallway we pass by a seemingly harmless man who then has the audacity to sneeze within 10 feet of our newborn fragile daughter!!! Yea sure he covered his nose and mouth but I know germs got through (have you ever tried to keep water in your hand - it leaks through?!) I somehow manage to not rip his germy little head off and we speed past quickly. As we wait for the elevator and fervently hope that no one else would ride along with us- closed space, germy people, no air... might as well dip our daughter into a petri dish! , my husband leans in and whispers- "is it wrong that I really wanted to punch that guy in the face?" somehow his own rage that matched mine was a comfort to me.

I thought this was a phase attributable to her fragile new immune system and my newness as a mother. I never expected the crazy need to purell every visitor to remain an integral part of my personality nor the deep breath I take whenever anyone approaches her carrier. I can feel myself preparing for battle- my muscles steeling themselves in preparation to either flee with my infant or fight off the well meaning, but dangerous attack, my tongue sharpening against my teeth ready to viciously chastise those who dare come too close or god forbid touch, my eagle eyes glued on every ones hands for the first sign of any attempts at physical contact and my brain feverishly trying to ascertain the worst potential predator- is it the woman with the oh too curious looking germ filled child? is it walking bacteria factory cleverly disguised as a ignorant teenager eager to squeal at my precious bundle of cuteness or is it the grandmotherly old lady who is equally as armed as me wiht her own weapons of insidious comments and unwanted advice. It doesn't matter I am well prepared to maul each of them or all three of them at once if need be- hell I'll also take down that creepy would-be pedophile with the moustache standing in the corner while I am at it.

Perhaps my grizzliness took its truest form while at Church. The problem with church is that its a bunch of germy strangers crammed into a tiny space touching and talking and pretending they are some sort of closeknit community. I dread the moments we shake hands and ache with impatience looking for the next opportunity I can discreetly disinfect myself. My papa bear husband and I try to get there early to get the last pew so that no one is leaning over our daughter's carrier (placed protectively on the pew between us) and breathing their foul breath on her. Last week we missed the opportunity and we were stuck sitting in front of a young man. oh well he probably wont be interested enough to lean close to her plus hes fairly tall hopefully his germs would drift right over her. Then to my absolute horror he moves over to let his wife and 4 small children in next to him. As his young daughters lean dangerously close to my daughters sleeping face I can feel myself stiffen- What do I do? Do I say something? Do I risk waking my peaceful child up just to hold her in my protective arms away from the breathy assault of this young brood behind me? As I contemplate my next move my husband leans in and whispers "I can actually hear you growling".... the metamorphosis is complete. I have officially become a vicious overprotective grizzly bear- growl and all and if you don't stay at least 10 feet away from my child you can rest assure I am imagining ripping your body apart limb from limb.

Oops blogging fail

Obviously, I am not very good at keeping up with posting. Oh well. I have some other posts regarding my pregnancy in the hopper they just need some tweaking. In the meantime I will blog as I feel it and keep checking for backdated posts.. :)

Hospital Bag

I read LOTS of lists of everything I should bring with me to the hospital and lots and lots of books about what I should expect..some suggestions were great ( a smuggled in sandwich) some were downright dumb (cards.. yea because anyone really wants to play go fish with a woman having contractions...) So this is it- the end all be all list of what you actually need if you are laboring in an hospital. Seriously throw away those books.

1- a Smuggled in sandwich- they won't let you eat when you are there but that is just crazy-making. During a typical labor and delivery you burn around 30,000 calories (Google) Your body simply cannot do it without food. Now I understand that there are risks to eating and that you should be mindful, but in my case I went in at 7 and was barely barely dilated- I knew I had a long day..night ahead of me so yea I ate a peanut butter and helly sandwich and you know what it was delicious and kept me from killing my husband, parents, nurses and a kindly old lady who passed me during my many hallway walk-abouts

2- Slippers. The idea of my socked feet touching the floor that has seen placenta, womb juice and let's not kid ourselves the occasional 'damn he's slippery' baby got me skeeved out. I have a foot thing- like I can't get into bed with dirty feet or socks I've worn around. So if you are ok doing that skip the slippers and wear your placenta laden socks to bed.

3- 'Nutritional' bars. I am fairly certain I can't legally name them, but you know what I'm talking about. These are more to keep hubby happy and while that’s not too high on my agenda once I'm IN LABOR-Not being in labor makes me significantly more magnanimous. Plus who wants a cranky hungry hubby!!
4- Electrolyte drink- again with the generic names, but you know it. This is again for the hubby…

4- Tennis balls in a clean gym sock. This is a dual purpose item. First off it is GREAT to use to press on that area of your back that is in so much pain you want to dig it out with a spoon. (if you never went into labor you don't know that pain but trust me- its awful so plan ahead) Second and I argue more importatly it provides the perfect blend of hardness and bounce to walup your hubby when he annoys you. The sock gives you a good handle and provides stretch to reach several more inches and the tennis balls hurt just enough to get him back in line without leaving welts.

5- Unscented massage oil- Unscented because yea you think you love the smell of vanilla now (be honest it makes you think of cupcakes) but when you are suffering through endless contractions you may hate it) Digression- this theory also applies to hubby's aftershave, shampoo, deodorant, breath.. so be prepared to make him shower and rebrush. The oil is good be/c this is the last time anyone will be nice enough to massage your aching shoulders or sausage feet. Sorry but true.

6- Birth Book- the kind that you can get your baby's footprints stamped in. You will want it but be way too tired to remember to do it on your own.

7- going home outfit for baby. Not for you just wear home what you wore to the hospital no one is looking at you anyway. But the baby- yes he/ she needs something special and WEATHER APPROPRIATE.

That's it. That is all you need. I promise you.

I'm In Love

(you all knew this was coming)  For all my bitching and complaining- I must admit all those moms that told it was completely worth it were absolutely right.  At the time, I figured it was something they say to recruit unsuspecting victims into the Mommy Club  or to console those foolish enough to believe them enough to get pregnant.  I heard of moms feeling that gush of love as soon as their baby is put on their chest-  I don't think I felt that way.  I suppose I had already gotten used to loving my little bundle of personality when she was in the womb- she had a very distinct personality. So similar to mine I couldnt help but to feel pride that my surly opinionated genes had outmatched my husband's congenial polite ones.  (Score one for the bitch genes!!)  I loved that she angrily kicked me when I changed positions causing her to shift and sway in her little watery abode.  I love that she refused to do what I wanted when I wanted it but instead acquiesced on her own terms (like flipped from breech to head first)  When she was born and put on my chest and immediately pooped all over me I loved that I hadnt imagined that stubborn 'haha screw you' streak.  I think it was the combination of pride and complete awe that overcame me rather than intense feelings of love... no those feelings came slowly trickle by trickle at unexpected moments.
Like in the middle of the night when thank God she finally latched on and I readjusted so I don't feel like my tit is on fire- I look down at her content little face as she guzzles away like a frat boy at the keg and I feel it. When she makes eye contact with me (true its a squinty eyed extremely suspicious glare, but its eye contact) and I feel it. I think I feel it the most when I see my two greatest loves interacting- the sight of my husband cooing and oogling over the tiniest little bundle in his arms has made me happier and more content than I ever thought possible (it might also be because of our 'if she does it while you have her.. you change her' rule combined with the sheer fact that for the time being I am not holding her and my arms get a much needed rest)
As she gets a little older and more like a baby and less like a tightly swaddled sausage- I feel it even more- there is really nothing as intensely amazing as when your child smiles at you (actually AT you not in your proximity by accident)

I could of course go on and on, but I have a poopy diaper to change :)