Stories from the front lines of an unplanned pregnancy.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Moo with me...

Breastfeeding, A Haiku.

Baby is screaming
Tits start leaking everywhere
Just call me Daisy

Oh, the magical bonding experience of having a squirmy, ten pound leech sucking the life out of you through your surprisingly stretchy nipples. Riiiiiight. Now don't go telling those La Leche League Nazis, but sometimes... breastfeeding kinda sucks.

Like when after the little man finally falls asleep after a 45 minute suck-a-thon and you finally get the chance to pee, throw his daily collection of spitup encrusted onesies into the washing machine, pull out a box of Stouffer's lasagna from the freezer-- aaaaaand he's crying again. What the hell?! Where two boobs-ful of milk can go in the hour and fifteen minutes since he last ate is one of the great mysteries of infancy. Either way, he's screaming like he hasn't eaten in a week and the two rapidly spreading wet spots on my t-shirt are telling me it's feeding time at the Anglim Zoo. Fabulous! Seriously, I don't even know why I bother with a shirt half the time. You know? I should just wander around topless, bambino swinging from one boob... very National Geographic.

Don't get me wrong, most of the time the whole experience is pretty sweet. He's awfully cuddly and I've been lucky enough to be spared some of the brutal horrors I've heard about from other new mamas. Cracked, bleeding nipples? Tiny gnawing gums? Yeesh. And on the bright side, I've gotten pretty damn good at one handed, well, everything. And by the time Ian's finally on solid foods and sippy cups I'm gonna be rocking Madonna guns! Sweet!

Just for once I'd like to feel more like a mommy and less like a freaking dairy cow. Ah, a heifer can dream...

With love and lactation,

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Blog, Interrupted...

It goes without saying that I am a completely shitty blogger. It's been over a month since the spawn arrived, and all I've managed is one measly little post consisting of one sentence, a photo, and an assortment of baby stats. Lame. But whatever, I'm a stay at home mum with an infant. And that's my newest favorite excuse for... well, everything. Couldn't manage to get my teeth brushed before three pm? I have an infant! Haven't cleaned out the refrigerator since my eighth month of pregnancy? Sorry-- newborn! Basically given up on ever finishing all these thank you cards? You get the picture.

Ugh. It's not that I don't want to write, it's just that when faced with the choice to either eat or write a 500 word essay on my labor experience, I'm going to go with the former every time. And anyway, I can sum up the whole childbirthin' experience like this: 1-7 centimeters dilated? Cake. 7-10? Murder. In fact, that gives me a really good idea. Since I'm working on borrowed time right now (never know when Mini Musselini is going to wake up), I'm just going to give single sentence opinions on a bunch of baby related topics and h

Labor: 19 hours of mild to moderate cramps, 2 hours of "kill me now" mind blowing agony.

Ian's first 30 seconds of life: "Eww-- He looks like an alien!"

Ian's next 30 seconds of life: "Oh, my God he's beautiful!"

My post baby body: Skinny again, but made of jello.

Breastfeeding: Huge boobs, happy baby, happier husband.

Diapers: From poop to powder, changes are now clocking in at under 60 seconds.

Sleep: Ha, just kidding.

And as for the baby himself, well... he's awesome. Like seriously. Great hair, good sleeper, high tolerance for unnecessarily loud voices. He can also already hold his head up, reach for toys and laugh. And he's figured out how to text message in his vote for Dancing with the Stars, but, you know, I don't want to brag. Personality-wise (yes, newborns have personality. In fact, wee man has more personality in one of his wet diapers than the entire cast of The Hills combined.), he's surprisingly mellow with the most expressive face I've ever seen. Who knew month old babies could emote "disgust" or "indecision" or "passion"? Okay, well "indecision" might actually be just gas... we're not exactly sure. Either way, he's endlessly entertaining (if you're into poop explosions and endless hiccups, like me) and even has a definite set of likes and dislikes. See below:

boobs, DalĂ­ posters, headbutts, bath time, off track betting, the sound of the blender, rocking out.

loaded diapers, socks, the proposed gas tax holiday, car seats, Law & Order C.I. episodes featuring Chris Noth

"Where the hell is D'Onofrio?"

Speak of the little devil, I hear him now. And singing the opening verse of "Largo al Factotum", no less! I think. Then again, he might just be crying. You know us new parents...

With love and gloating,