Story time

Elijah loves his stories before bed and naps. Lately, I have read the nursery rhyme book about a million times. Ok, realistically, 2-3 times a day for the last 3 weeks so it feels like a million. I only read 1 rhyme per page otherwise it would take all day to read. Last night I was reading "Old Lady Who Lived in a Shoe".  During the last verse where she "kissed them all soundly and sent them to bed", I always kiss him on the head or cheek. Last night when I got to that line, he leaned his cheek out so I could kiss him. That was the best part of my day.

Advice for Holiday Travelers

I forgot to share a funny story with all of you from our trip to Indianapolis. Our first plane left San Diego around 9 am, so we got to the airport around 7:30 and after going through security, I was in need of some coffee. I got a ridiculously expensive latte and we waited for the plane. Elijah fell asleep and about an hour into the flight I realized that traveling by myself with Elijah would make it nearly impossible to use the lavatory while on the plane. I didn't think of that while drinking my overpriced latte and there was still an hour an a half left of our flight, not to mention a sleeping baby on my lap. I suppose I could have asked someone to hold him while I went to the bathroom, I mean really, it's not like they can run off with him on a plane, but I felt awkward doing that, so I held it.

As we are starting our descent into Denver, I notice a distincitve smell coming from my little one's diaper. Yep, Elijah decides that is the perfect time to drop a load in his diaper. Being as we are making our descent, I'm not allowed to leave my seat and change his diaper. Not that I would want to because I'm pretty sure turbulence and dirty diapers don't mix.

So we finally land, Elijah is hungry and poopy and I have to pee like you would not believe so I high-tail it to the ladies room. The first stall in the bathroom is, thank God, a handicap stall so I wheel the stroller in so I can finally relieve myself. As I am sitting there, with my pants around my ankles, the stall door is apparently not latched properly and the door swings open! Hi world, I'm peeing and yes, that's my crying, poop-smelling baby next to me! I have to manuver some sort of squatting shuffle to avoid showing the whole world my hoo-ha while also not mooning them or dripping urine all over myself and doing so with superior speed so as not to attract even more attention to myself.

Needless to say, from that point on in my travels, I
a) made sure to use the facilities before boarding the plane and
b) found the family bathrooms at the airport, even if that means walking 3 miles to the other end of the terminal.

Tolerance

Most of you know that I went back to work last week and Elijah started daycare the week before. Yes, it is as hard as people say it is. I cried the night before and then that morning when I was getting ready to put Elijah in his car seat, I bawled like a baby. My poor husband stood there helpless and asked, “what’s the matter?”. Really? I think he just didn’t know what to say. It has gotten easier and there are some days when I don’t even think about him while I’m at work. I take that back, I’ve been pumping at work, so that’s a lie. You can’t really not think about your baby while a machine sucks milk out of your boob. I read something that said it’s a biological reaction for a mother to not want to leave her baby. Back in the day, if she didn’t stay with her babies, they would get eaten by wolves or mountain lions or something. Dads don’t have that because otherwise they wouldn’t leave the cave to hunt and then everyone would starve. I don’t know why that makes me feel better.

All the parenting books are very clear that every child is different so you shouldn’t compare them to other kids. No one ever says that about parents. We are all different and handle things differently. But everyone secretly, and not so secretly, judges. You had an epidural?! You are not exclusively breastfeeding?! You put your baby in daycare?! Or maybe I’m paranoid and we are all looking for someone who does everything we’re doing so we have some validation for our choices.

Everyone says you will do anything for your kids and you will; but there is fine line where it is so bad for you that it is not worth it. Elijah took 4 weeks to get back to his birth weight, which is supposed to take 1 to 2 weeks. We had to go to the pediatrician’s office twice a week for three weeks to weigh him. Then we had to discuss how we were feeding him; could we hear him swallowing, and did he seem content. Every time we thought we were doing everything right and he seemed happy. And then, the dreaded scale would reveal... no weight gained or barely some weight or, one time, weight lost. It’s a horrible feeling. I’m supposed to be able to feed my baby and provide all the nutrition he needs, that’s what all the books tell you. I felt like a failure as a mom, even though before giving birth I was totally open to the idea of using formula if he needed it. I just didn’t think he would need it. That happens to other people, not me, I’m healthy. And if I couldn't nurse him, he wouldn't need me anymore. I cried every time we went to the pediatrician until he finally started gaining weight with supplemental formula feedings. Granted, I was also sleep deprived because it would take us an hour to feed him with nursing, supplementing and pumping and that equals 2 hour stretches of sleep. Then I started slacking on the pumping after his feeds because he was awake and I wanted to play with him. Sometimes I feel guilty about that and think if I had continued, then I would be able to only breastfeed him and I’d be able to produce enough milk to send him to daycare with a whole day’s worth. But my wonderful husband always reminds me that we were going crazy and something had to give. Feeding our baby formula is not a failure, it is great nutrition for the little guy. And to be quite honest, sometimes, it is so much easier. He’s growing like crazy and laughs and smiles at both of us more than the people at daycare, so I guess we are doing something right :P

Poop Hammock

My friend, Jen, told me that this would happen and I sort of believed her, but thought, it can't be that bad. But it is. I could write a blog post every week about poo. I mostly restrain myself but this one had to be shared. Micah says I should get used to poo because we have a boy and he will forever think poo is funny (as evidenced by Micah himself). And if you can't laugh about it, you will cry and I just don't have that much energy.

Here's the story:
A couple days ago I went to the grocery store. I have been trying to get the hang of going to the grocery store with just me and Elijah but it can be challenging. We've decided that wearing the baby on these excersions is much easier because the carseat takes up most of the cart, leaving little room for groceries. So I carry him in my sling atthe grocery store. You can probably see where this is heading. I knew he hadn't pooped yet that day or the day before so he was due for a blow out. However, I thought, it will take less than an hour at the grocery store, what could happen? Low and behold, not 15 minutes into our shopping trip did I hearing a massive fart and looked down to discover that the diaper had leaked poo into my sling and I now had a baby and some nasty green poo strapped to the front of my body. I thought, "I could go change his diaper and clothes, but I would still have to put him back in the poopy sling when I'm done to finish shopping." So I run through the store, trying to finish up my shopping before he realizes he is a mess and starts crying. Luckily, I make it through with no crying (I think he fell asleep, that was clearly an exhausting effort). I felt a little embarrassed when the person in front of me at the check out wanted to peek into the sling to see my baby. They got a little more than they bargined for because it is not a pleasant smell either.

Then I had to change his diaper and clothes in the backseat of the car during which the poo got everywhere. I mostly kept it off the seats with the changing pad but I'm pretty sure I used a whole packet of wipes to clean it up. With Elijah's dislike for diaper changes, he was screaming bloody murder the whole time, which made the process even more enjoyable. And there was this guy who was just standing there kind of behind me and I could not for the life of me figure out why. I got kind of nervous that maybe he was going to rob me or steal my baby. Then I felt like a Class A paranoid moron when I realized that he was parked next to me and he was waiting for me to close my door so he could get by and get in his car. Sheesh! He was very nice about it when I apologized for holding him up.

Like I said, I'm trying to keep the poop stories to a minimum, but that one I just had to share.

Motherhood is beautiful?

CAUTION: read at your own risk, it may contain TMI (you'll know after the first sentence)

Since giving birth, I have one boob that is significantly larger than the other. I know this is partially my own doing because I am only nursing from one breast. One breast? Yeah, basically, for certain anatomical reasons, my son was having a hard time "latching on" to my right breast and therefore was sucking less and therefore I was producing less milk on that side. This caused me to have to nurse on that side, then the other side, then he got a bottle and then I pumped both sides. Once my husband went back to work and I didn't have help with the feeds (he would feed the baby the bottle after I nursed), I got too exhausted and I didn't feel like baby was getting much out of it ,except frustration. I thought, "why am I trying so hard to make him nurse on that side, what is the point?" So the boob shrunk and in times when the other boob is full, there is a very definate difference in size.

This situation is accented if I am wearing a shirt that is not a maternity shirt because it is nice and snug around my chest region. Yeah, I am still wearing maternity clothes for the most part because, although I only have 7 pounds left to lose to get to my pre-pregnancy weight, it is all centered in my stomach and hip area which makes me unable to pull regular pants up and my shirts too short and expose my maternity pants. And so I'm here, trying to decide if my body is going to change back enough for me to ever fit in these clothes again or if I should just give them all to Goodwill and go get some new clothes in bigger sizes. But then I have to buy bigger sizes...scary.

Of course, the adorable little bugger is all worth it as you can see from his pictures (he is cuter in person than in his pictures). But if anyone had any illusions that motherhood was beautiful...