I Breastfeed Because I’m Lazy

No, no I’m not kidding.

I started out with the best intentions. Breastfeeding was good for the baby. Breast is best and all that jazz. Then it kept up because I was dropping the pounds fast and still eating whatever landed in my hand. It continued past that and to this day because hot damn I don’t have to lug bottles and/or formula with me anywhere. Whoop, whoop! Not to mention the other numerous perks.

Baby cranky. Here’s a boob. Fell down and won’t stop crying. Here’s a boob. Won’t fall asleep. Here ya go! What I am going to do when I decide to wean him or he weans himself.. I have no clue. The boob is the crutch I lean on. I don’t have to fight him to sleep, rocking and walking and singing (most of the time) I can just pop him on and away he goes. Not all the time mind you, for example he’s teething right now and it takes the perfect storm to get him down. Typically though I am happily putting him down the easiest way I can. Because I’m lazy. Because it’s less tears. Less upset baby. Which in turn of course means a happier momma.

I’m sure in time something else will become our saving grace, some toy or song or blankie but for now I’ll happily possess the key to his happiness.

Oh boobs, what would I do without you.


Why I can’t sit still.

It used to drive me crazy when my mom would not sit still. We’d all pick out a movie and sit down to watch it and she’d jump up to go put some dishes away. She would leave to go change laundry over. Next thing we knew we hadn’t seen her for half an hour because she’d been in her room folding clothes. I never understood why she wouldn’t just sit and watch the movie with us.

However, just yesterday my mom and I were out running errands while baby L was with my dad. I asked if we could pop by my house so I could let my dogs out and she said that was fine she’d wait in the car. So I ran in and let them out and then picked up the bedroom, made the bed, put the dishes away, and took out the trash. Then we left. And I realized, I had become my mother.

Before my sweet baby had been born I probably would have let the dogs out and plopped on the couch for 10 minutes checking Facebook and reading e-mails. Not now. Now any minute that my hands aren’t full of baby is a minute I must use. It is a precious minute. And I don’t mean any minute that he’s somewhat occupied by a toy, because seriously.. that only lasts about 6 seconds before he’s off trying to open the TV stand door to get to the Xbox or pull the cat’s tail. So while I can sometimes get a few things accomplished while keeping an eye on him.. it never feels like much.

So I must say, sorry mom. I won’t ever tease you about not being able to sit still again. Probably.

Time to Myself? Ha.

I’ve been hard-pressed lately to get any time to myself. One might think, hey you’re a stay at home mom. Certainly you have plenty of time to yourself. Ah ha, I would say back, you’d think so wouldn’t you? Well you are so very wrong.

For one thing every moment that I’m with my child if I’m not directly interacting with him he is just on the edges of my mind. He might be sitting in his bouncer but I’m counting the seconds until he’s had enough and will start wailing or thinking about how last time he ate was so many hours ago and he’ll need to eat again soon. Or the dogs are in there with him and he just got real quiet.. they’re probably licking the crap out of his face and he’s silently loving every second.

Even when he naps he has most likely fallen  asleep on me so I’m stuck wherever that was unless I want to risk waking him up only to have to try to get him back to sleep again. And some days, that nap is the only quiet time I’ve had all day. Especially right now because he’s learned to make a high pitched screech noise that he must think is a proper tool for communicating. I have not found a way to communicate to him that this in fact is NOT a proper communication tool. So I’ll let him nap on me trying not to move too much and wondering why I left my phone, remote, candy bar, laptop, water bottle, etc so far out of reach.

Then once he wakes up he wants to talk (ie: screech) at me but only if I’m looking at him and if I look away he must then screech-cry until I look back. Then he smiles and wails at the same time while madly bouncing in his bouncer. Does my child sound broken? Maybe he’s broken. Siiigh.

Needless to say any alone time when I’m the only adult in the house doesn’t really translate to me time. Because, on top of him if I do get a spare second I feel like I need to pet the cats or play with the dogs because the poor pets are oft neglected in lieu of the baby. Sorry furkids, he’s just louder than you. Most of the time.

Though I guess sometimes I do have a small window of time I feel like I get just for me. It’s usually about 10 o’clock (like it is right now) and I’ve just managed to get him off the boob without waking him. He’ll actually roll away from me on to his back and I’m able to roll the other way and pull my laptop up to play with. I know almost certainly I’ll have at least an hour before he rolls back towards me to comfort nurse one more time before he goes to sleep. Usually at this point I’m too tired to stay up and so he nurses and we go to sleep. That hour though.. its a good hour..

My body made a baby and it’s never going to be the same.

This is something I am really struggling with right now.

I was blessed with great genes. I’ve never had a flat toned stomach or been without a bit of fluff on my hips and thighs but overall I was “skinny”. I pretty much ate what I wanted and lazed around and managed to never stray above 115 lbs. Sure sometimes after binge-eating half a pizza with my then boyfriend, now husband, my jeans would be tight and I’d have to hit the gym for a few days the next couple of weeks or lay off the junk food. Then all would be right with my world.

Then, pregnancy. The little extra on my tummy was now more than a little and I had stretch marks for days. I have stretch marks on my stomach, which I expected. I have stretch marks on my boobs, which I did not. I have stretch marks on my butt! Which I REALLY did not expect. My butt didn’t even get any bigger (at least my husband swears it didn’t) and yet stretch marks!  Not too much mention my once nicely situated B cups are now not so nice C cups. Who knew that bigger boobs could be a bad thing. We’ll it happens if you’re breastfeeding. Let me tell ya.

What makes all this worse is my husband and I are taking a trip with some friends to Mexico in two short months. I just knew when we planned this trip, before baby was born, that by 6 months in I’d be looking hot and ready to celebrate the first time away from my baby.

What I didn’t count on was breastfeeding making you STARVING all the time and so eating all the time. Also the whole “having a baby” thing really actually takes a little bit of time. Okay, all your time 23/7.. one hour being allowed for showering, eating, house-cleaning, taking care of furchildren, and laundry. Seriously though, trying to even take 45 minutes to go run requires someone to watch baby, having food pumped for baby just in case, and willingness to give up one of the above mentioned things. With my free time I’d prefer to take a solo trip to the grocery store, go get my nails done, or even just drive around in the car ALL BY MYSELF. It’s bliss. Really.

So what this all winds down into is.. I made a baby and my body isn’t the way it used to be. No matter how much I’d love to fit in pre-pregnancy jeans again for right now at least, it ain’t gonna happen. So I’ll embrace my new curves, new softness, and tiger stripes. Cause babycakes, I earned it and earned the right to be happy in it.

Stay at Home Mom

I had just one or two preconceived notions about being a stay at home mom. I figured by week 5 or 6 I would have the whole feeding, sleeping, changing, playing, and whatever else thing down to a schedule. I figured I would wake-up, change and feed him, maybe we’d play a little then he’d go down for a nap. He’d wake up and eat and play some more than another nap and so on.

I assumed I’d be cooking gourmet meals every night for us. Getting laundry, dishes, house cleaning, and all the other little things done on a daily basis. After all, he was one tiny little 7 lb baby who just wanted to eat and sleep. How much time could he really take up?

24 hrs. That’s how much time he can take up. A full 24 hrs spent changing diapers, feeding him, burping, changing his clothes, changing my clothes, soothing him because he’s upset, talking to him, watching him smile and coo, tummy time, letting him nap on me because OMG it’s the first time he’s stopped crying in the last hour, and so on and so forth.

So when my hubby comes home (or calls) and asks, what have you been up to.. I feel like because the dishes are still in the sink, the laundry is piling up, the floors need to be swept, the bathroom cleaned, the sheets changed.. I feel like I should be able to tell him all the hundreds of things I’ve done that day. Except I can’t because I haven’t. I’ve spent all day with my little man and somehow the rest of the world faded away.

And you know what.. for now, that is just fine with me 🙂

Crying baby

They cry when they are bored. They cry when they are hungry. They cry when they are over-stimulated, tired, or just cranky and honestly sometimes I think they cry just because they can.

I had been pretty lucky up until now and my little guy did not seem to cry all that often. Oh sure, he would get hungry and cry, I fed him and all was right with the world. Lately though it seems no amount of silly faces, feeding, rocking, or singing songs can soothe the beast. He’ll be fine one minute and break out in tears the next. I’ll try to feed him and he’ll refuse. I’ll try singing, he cries over me. It seems impossible until you find the one thing he wants. Maybe that one thing is standing on one leg, hopping up and down, singing Mary Had a Little Lamb backwards with the temperature set at exactly 73 degrees.

Okay, maybe not that exact but it seems like a puzzle every day trying to figure out what he wants. Today for example it was pulling my knees up and propping him facing away from me on my knees. (Picture below, excuse my messy coffee table). That was the only thing that kept him from losing it on me. I think he was just tired so now that he’s passed out I’m not moving a muscle because seriously.. a tired baby is a cranky baby is a crying baby that you can’t console and sometimes they just have to wear themselves out crying. It is no fun.

Next time I have one of these I’m asking for an instruction manual before I take him or her home. They have those right?

Super long back-tracking post

Once you get pregnant and into the second trimester life gets BUSY. Between doctor’s appointments, dentist appointments, baby class, baby showers, reorganizing the house for baby, etc, you lose a lot of time. So I’m going to try to go back and document the last couple of months.

Let’s jump back to about the end of August or weeks 24-32.

Things I did. Got work off for Labor Day! Yay! That was nice. Had to start the first of a few dentist appointments because I had cavities. Boo. Couldn’t get them all at once because there were two on one side and one on the other. Unfortunately at that point it was uncomfortable to lay flat on my back for too long so we had to break the appointments up. I also was fortunate enough to see Phantom of the Opera the play! It was fantastic.

At this point in my pregnancy things weren’t too bad. My new medication had my nausea and vomiting under control. I was still tired a lot though and sleep was becoming even more elusive. I was having to fall asleep sitting up and it just took forever to get comfortable. So I was pretty tired most days and had some heartburn. Other then that things were going fairly well.

Week 27 however was the dreaded glucose test. Now before pregnancy I was a healthy 5′ 3″ and about 120 pounds. Pretty average. I was moderately active (before the puking started at week 6) and while I indulged in fast food now and then, I had a fair diet. I’d gained about 10-15 lbs at this point which was average.Needless to say I wasn’t worried too much about the glucose test except that everyone had warned me the drink they gave you was awful.

The drink wasn’t that bad. The diagnosis of gestational diabetes was shocking. I went in a week and a half later and the three hour blood glucose test confirmed it.

At first I was not too worried. Shocked, but not too concerned. I figured I would cut out any pop or sweets and call it good. Wrong. First I learned that the diabetes was not caused by my diet (or lack thereof) it was simply my pregnancy hormones at work. That was nice to know, I certainly hadn’t intended to give myself anything that could harm our little boy. Second I learned that managing it was MUCH more than just cutting out sugars. I had to count carbs, I had to measure things, I had to.. meal plan. I was not happy.

I had literally just a few weeks prior to all this started eating normally again. Just got my nausea under control and was indulging just a little in the, I’m pregnant I’ll eat what I want mindset. It was to be no more.

This bring us to week 30 of pregnancy and it deserves a separate post so I’ll pick up from there in my next post.

Heads up, things get a little ugly.