Goodbye 600 extra calories

After nearly 13 months as a cow, my body and son aren't doing it anymore. So long the days of extra desserts, decaf coffee, and aversion to spicy foods. I have throughly enjoyed the ride as a nursing mom, having nursed in many a parking lot, dressing room, and eventually in public(covered that is!). I found that my son took to nursing easily, yet was not dependent on me for comfort, that's what the thumb is for. Time to retire the bras with hooks, terrible suctioning devices, and leaky pads till next time.

Submariner

I know that I have a lifetime of inopportune events ahead of me, and have to say that I am pretty lucky getting through 13 months scot-free.  Yet today I was giving my son a bath and was greeted by an unwelcome visitor in the bath.  First reaction is to laugh actually, as moments before he was in my arms so my white shirt was almost toast.  After a pause and a giggle, I had to pull myself together and clean up the mess.  Thank god for the diaper sprayer that is right next to the tub!

Sleep is kinda important

Today was one of those days where I am ashamed to admit that I couldn't wait to put my child to bed.  We had one of those long ridiculous "Why the hell are you crying for 2.5 hours?!", nights that led to a short, unrefreshed napping kind of day, and child that would bawl at the drop of a hat.  My child that adores eating above all else, whined and fussed through his entire dinner that was fed to him at least a hour earlier than usual.  His head hit the bed at 6:45, which may be a new record for this momma.  Do I feel guilty? Nah, I now wish I was smart enough to hit the bed early too. 

Vacation Days

I have to just laugh at myself for a moment.  On my current trip to my hometown, I knew that I was going to be away from the duties of home for over 10 days and I became a bit overzealous in my mental packing.  There are NEVER enough hours in the day for me to complete all of the tedious tasks of housework on top of the care of my dear son and loving husband.  I relished in the idea that I was going away for several days and became sneakily excited to catch up on my blog (um, first post in days!), organize my coupons, and lazily read the 3 books and 5 magazines that I lugged across 3 states. Needless to say I get the same amount of time to read, compute, and organize between the naps and feedings just as I did at home.  You can take the mommy out of the house, but the baby stays on his schedule, laundry continues to pile up, and food demands preparation no matter where you are.  There are no days off! I had a friend mention something about how most folks are excited about the short work week for the Thanksgiving holiday and how there are no short weeks in being a mommy. This rings true, but I would not trade it in the world. 
 In all actuality, I am getting more time to play with my son; which I am absolutely adoring chasing him around with his walker, reading his books over and over, and playing ball till his little hand falls off.  Maybe this is the new definition of 'me time'.  I can read when I am old.....  

One Giant Leap

Or practically a face plant if you ask me.  My precious baby has embarked on the final of the major milestones today; 'walking'.  I'm adding quotation marks for the fact that he isn't officially walking by the standards that most of us upright individuals.  I think of walking as putting one foot in front of the other and  keeping the vertical position as long as you can.  Apparently when babies 'walk' they act like they are moments from falling (which they are) and finally use their legs to try to keep them from toppling face-first into a loving parent's arms. This is really a thrilling event as your child is once their own and once again mobility will make mommy even more tired.  

   

Out of the Closet

So I have been a SAHM for over a year now and rarely do I miss those days of suffering through 5 days work to fly through a weekend and then do it all over again. I did enjoy shopping for a fun wardrobe while I was still bringing in a paycheck, this is evident in my now overflowing closet.  Tonight I was grudgingly completing the chore of switching out my closet for the winter and once again I was faced with a new conundrum.  What the heck do I do with my 'work' clothes?!  My current attire has been derived from the early days of mothering; where wearing something with belt loops and a button is unbelievably uncomfortable, where styling my hair once every two weeks is a big deal, and the fashion of why bother? It's going to get spit up on in a mere moment anyway.  The catchall wardrobe for this life, is athletic clothes.  I am sure that I am a prime candidate for What Not to Wear with my constant wearing of running skirts and tanks in the summer and yoga pants and sweatshirts in the winter at home and sometimes {gasp} in public. And I dread to be inside my husband's head when he sees me strutting around the house in his PT sweatpants for the second day in a row.
 This makes little sense in that I have a closet full of nice appropriate clothes that would be suited for a trip to the commissary or a job interview for that matter.  Alas, those nice clothes are collecting dust in my closet and hell, its just the commissary right?  I decided to be real with myself and make more room in my closet by taking those dress pants, white button up shirts, and fancy sweaters and put them in a tub marked 'work clothes'.  This is in affect so that I don't pull them back out in the next season, dumbly thinking that I will wear these outfits.  I do hate that I don't have anything to get ready for most of my days, which I now have to giggle at myself when I get all dolled up for a doctor's appointment. But who can complain when your job doesn't require closed toed shoes?  Now I am wondering what I am making more room in my closet for.....

Times Change

Babies don't wear watches. So when the rest of the world gets to enjoy a blissed extra hour of sleep; my child wakes up at his usual time, which is now an hour earlier.  Not only am I already sinking into the wintertime depression since it is now dark at 5, I don't get to enjoy the silver lining of 'extra' sleep.  Spring time change will be a real treat.

Malpractice

This week has not been the most stellar in the encouragement of a fragile mother's ego.  As mentioned in prior posts, heading to the pediatrician and seeing the low-hanging x on the growth chart is bad enough, as well as the inordinate amount of needles that go into the tiny arm of your child in the first few months of their lives.  This trip takes the cake.  My usual pediatrician is out on maternity leave, and we are faced with the choice to stay with the current practice or follow her to her new practice when she returns.  The gods of karma must have been reading my mind as I was treating this visit as a means of making this decision.  Within moments of the new doctor coming in the room, I was asked which formula my breastfed child of over a year was drinking and then accused of underfeeding and improperly cleaning the nether regions of my son.  If you have had the joy of watching my child eat, you will realize that there is no satiating this child.  He can put down a plate of sweet potato, chicken, peas, and rice. And then reach longingly for your plate and then you are greeted with grunts of displeasure when you choose not to share with him as you know he may just explode if he eats more.  He failed to gain any weight at this check up which is why the evil doctor wanted to side with caution on his development. But she chose not to listen to our pleas that he was a very active child, was difficult to weigh on the scale due to all this movement, and must have had a Stevie Wonder moment in ignoring the size of both parents standing there in the room. And to add insult to injury we were accosted with the fact that my son was anemic moments later.  He had blood drawn at this 9 month check up to save him from being a complete pin cushion at this visit, and the results yielded that he needed to be put on a multivitamin with iron to bump him up a few points.  Apparently the numbers were not good enough as the evil doctor sent us back down to the lab where the nurse recognized us from the last visit and then seemed taken aback with the enormous amount of blood and tests that needed to be drawn from a one year old.  3 vials and lots of tears later, we walked out of the office with our paperwork on how to fatten up our child and a prescription for iron drops in our dejected hands.  

Cloth Diapering a Squirmy Worm

My experience with cloth diapering has been a breeze for the first 10 months of my son’s life. You place him on the changing table, sing songs, take all the time you need to delicately snap each snap, and all in all this was a wonderful encounter. Then enters the child that is into everything and changing his diaper is an infringement on his freedom. We are now reduced to changing his diaper somewhere on the floor after tackling him down, whilst using both my arms and legs to restrain him, and trying to keep him from twisting his body in a way that would make a gymnast proud.  I was becoming less of a fan of my cloth diapers solely for their time changing factor but I would never change my cloths for anything, no matter what the disposable marketing has thrown my way.  

  Let me remind you that cloth diapers are not like the days of old where we are fussing with pins and rubber pants, per se.  I use a mix of Bum Genius aios and Motherese one size and covers, both of which are awesome at holding the scariest of diapers.  So the changing time is shorter than the past, but not certainly as simple as the new disposables that you just pull on a super wiggly baby.  This being said, I realize that I just need to become more creative with my diversions while we are in the midst of changing a diaper. My songs have become more interactive, there is now a plethora of toys within arm’s reach, and I often just give him the bottle of lotion to mouth and play with so that I can get the diaper on.  I do become frustrated with the time that it is taking to get both the diaper and a cover on him, but I know that this time that I am taking is well worth the cost of buying diapers and the cost of disposing of them, tenfold.  Cloth diapering is much like a great piece of mothering knowledge that was passed to me from a friend, who put the bug in my ear to even consider it.  My love of it has been passed on to two other friends, so I am emphatic that the gift of paying it forward is worth the tribulation of struggling to get each diaper on a toddler.