Adorableness

We sprang a surprise visit on grandpa today. Munchkin was actually really well behaved, and ended up sleeping on him for a while.


Grammy and Grandpa are going to watch him Monday, and we're going out on our first date since well before Munchkin got here. So thrilled. I'm contemplating moving back into our bedroom too. A bit nervous, to be honest. Between P snoring and the baby, I have a feeling I'm not going to get ANY sleep. P's been whingeing though, that I haven't slept in "our" room since before Christmas. I miss him, but I like being able to pop up on the edge of the bed, turn the light on, and feed the munchkin. We'll see how it goes.

Grumpypants

Oy.

Went to get my car inspected today (I love my VW dealership!) and took little mister grumpypants along with me. I feel super "Eye of the Motherfuckin' Tiger" (Thanks, Aunt Becky) for being able to breastfeed him, standing up, in the 900 degree bathroom*. He was not impressed with my mad skillz, however.

I'm sure the folks in the service area were thrilled that he at least calmed down with walks, and my pinky finger to suck on. Nobody loves a screaming baby. He's going through another growth spurt. He wants to eat every 30 seconds (approximately), screams at me for reasons I can't fathom (diaper's dry, he's not too hot/cold, he's fed, had gas medicine, and Mercury isn't in retrograde...), and is generally just irritable as hell.

(Oddly enough, the smoke detector going off for no good reason doesn't bother him, but me accidentally scrunching one of his crib toys while he's sleeping? Wakes him up immediately.)

I can't wait till he's able to tell me what's irritating the shit out of him. Of course, by then, the answer will probably be "You, Mom."


*it was either that, or in the middle of the service area, which was crowded as hell, and I still haven't mastered whipping my tits around in public- at least not without paint, and witha midget attached to them.

Upset Bellies

File under: I can't leave the house for 3 hours...

Leaving a bottle with 3 oz of boob juice in the fridge, and telling my husband "give him 1.5-2 ounces if he's hungry while I'm gone." I come home and all 3 oz are gone, and I have one screaming baby on my hands. He has been incredibly fussy ever since. So now I need to find a different type of nipple for the little lad, and have spent all day since trying to console him. Every time I think I've got him settled (gas drops, bouncing, cuddling, massive poop, belly massage, bath) he starts screaming at the top of his tiny lungs again. Poor guy.

Shit They Don't Tell You: Breastfeeding

I don't care if you breast feed or not. I'm not one of those people. I'm breastfeeding. It hasn't been picture perfect. Apparently I have lazy nipples. Like my ass, I guess.

Everyone says "the first few days are a little rough." That's like saying 40 grit sandpaper is "a little rough." Ideally, by the way, 40 grit sandpaper is totally what you should line your bra with a few months before you deliver, so your nipples can toughen up a bit. Because that little adorable beastie? Is going to shred them.

All the experts and earth mamas paint this picture of total maternal bliss when you breastfeed. They make it sound like you're going to have sparrows chirping around your head while a smiling, rosy-cheeked infant gently suckles your perfect breast.

NOBODY gives you the reality. The morning after your milk comes in, you're topless on the couch, covered in your own snot, sobbing, with rivers of leaking breast milk running down the fronts of your legs, your breasts the size of Macy's floats, all the while trying to console a starving infant who believes that someone pulled a Folger's Crystals switch with his mother's titties. Your husband will be bewildered, you'll leave a crazed message on the lactation consultant's machine, and eventually you'll try to pump some before your boobs explode, and give the kid a bottle. (all the while praying that you don't ruin him for the boob ever again)

Eventually, you do get the hang of it. Your kid gains weight, and you no longer silently scream when he latches on. And it does get better. Maybe not sparrows and bliss, but it gets better.

Shit They Don't Tell You: Labor & Delivery

First in a series of shit they should have told you when you were building up to that whole 10 months of being knocked up, thing...

1. You will know when your water breaks, unless you normally have pee the consistency of pancake syrup and a massive incontinence problem.

2. The day you go into labor will (of course) be the day that 19 consultants will be on to "observe" the nurse who will be helping you deliver. (And if you're me, you'll know at least ONE of them, and be thoroughly unable to look them in the eyes in the hallway at work ever again, now that they know way more about your cervix than even you do.)

3. The overwhelming urge to jump up and tongue kiss your anesthesiologist for putting in such a totally amazing, wonderful, superb epidural should not be acted on. Your legs no longer work, you'll fall over, and the sweet, sweet epidural will rip out.

4. When you ARE supposed to push, you'll get the worst migraine of your life, and they're not about to give you drugs, so you're going to push, freak out about probably pooping in front of the 19 consultants, AND vomit copiously.

5. When they finally get the little bowling ball out, they're going to tell you to PICK HIM UP while he's still got like, one foot in the door. And it's going to be like trying to pick up a cat covered in cream cheese. Oh, and they'll also totally expect you to try to breastfeed him as soon as they get his Apgar score. (Nevermind that you're covered in puke, sweat, baby cream cheese, and are trying to surreptitiously count fingers/toes- or would be if you could remember what the hell numbers are.)

6. The consultants don't stick around for the placenta.

7. Your husband won't stick around for the placenta, and your jokes about taking it home to turn it into meatloaf will get you odd looks from the staff.