Rush

I hope I can describe this accurately.

Nearly every time I have breastfed Mary, and at this point we are talking about over a thousand or more times, right? I have gotten this rush. It's not the let down, that is something very boobule-related and that particularly strange feeling stopped happening months ago. No, this rush I am talking about is an emotional one. Every time it happens I am struck by the strength of it. It's like this combination of joy and heartache and it's just a big OH! felt right in my heart. It causes me to take a deep breath and to sort of gulp. Or maybe gasp.

Do I sound crazy? Since it's so hard to describe, I've never asked any of my breast friends (snerk) about it. But if you've felt it, tell me. Insanity loves company. It cleans the house and makes pink lemonade for it.

Answers

Have you tried Yahoo Answers yet? It's awesome. It's a forum where you can ask any manner of question and anyone can answer. I am not a big asker but man, am I suddenly an expert on everything when it comes to answering. My know-it-allism knows no bounds! It's really a blast. So far today I have told a woman that her boyfriend's baby is not "behind" because she is just starting to crawl at 10 months, I rewrote a sentence for some high school kid, and helped someone whose avatar is a thumb with the lyrics to Smells Like Teen Spirit. All this, before 10:30 a.m.!

Yah, it's slow at work. And due to certain factors that I shan't write about from here, my will to pretend to care has wavered. Yes, I have found myself in the asylum and the inmates are most certainly running the joint.

Mary turned one. Naturally, she has an ear infection on her birthday, so we celebrated afterwards. We gave her a tickle me Elmo. The TMX. Toys have model numbers now, apparently. Anyway, this Elmo is technology's greatest triumph. He doesn't just laugh. He guffaws... he is actually the definition of the most hated internet speak: ROTFLOL. He rolls around and smacks the ground as he laughs. But most amazingly, HE GETS BACK UP. This, my friends, is a glorious time in which to live!

So, I wrote Mary a first birthday letter, just as I did for her marvy sister. I do share:

Mary-it’s your first birthday! I don’t get how you can already be one-it seems like you just got here. When Annie turned one, it felt like we had had her for ages but you still feel so new. Maybe it’s because you cried less than Annie or because I wasn’t working for most of your first year or because I worried that I might not get to have you. Whatever the reason, you are still a new surprise for us all, even after a full year.

Though your sister taught me many of the lessons I needed to survive a baby’s first year (namely patience, patience and more patience), I learned a lot from you, too.

You have been my little kangaroo baby, hanging on me for a year now. For the first 5 months you slept with Dad and me in our big bed. It was easier that way as there were no cold walks downstairs to fix you a bottle and cuddle you in the family room when you awoke crying. Since you breastfed, I simply nursed you back to sleep. Because of this I never suffered from the sleep deprivation that makes having a new baby so hard. This helped us like each other more, I think. You still breastfeed-my little baby bird nursing off to sleep or into wakefulness. I am not worried about this ending, our bond has been long formed and you are ready to let go, I think.

Always a mom’s girl, my little bean, but you are never out of smiles for everyone else. You were such an early smiler-and it wasn’t just the gassy grins, either. You smile and bounce as you seek out the attention from Daddy, Ryan and Annie and you smile and bounce when inevitably this attention comes your way.

Though you look more and more like your sister as the days pass, you are really such a little YOU. You are so consolable, regardless of what upsets you, but when you are upset you make it very clear. You love to laugh. Love it. Giggle diggle we say to you. You love swings. You love eating. You love when people talk to you (but you sly girl, you act like you don’t as you bury your head into my shoulder trying to conceal your obvious smirk). You love your bag of tricks, both new and old: clapping, waving (and now saying “bye bye”), standing, stairs, combing your own hair, it’s all so much fun.

There is something about you that I don’t really have a handle on yet. I feel like you still have a lot to show us as far as your personality goes and I can’t wait to see who you become.

Best. Mother. Ever.

Where should I begin? I could tell you about Mary's double ear infection-probably brewing for a couple weeks but undisgnosed until last Friday. Or I could describe a week and a half's worth of the diarrhea she has had. Or that she has been fussing frequently lately, kicking out her legs and rocking her body and sxcreaming every time I put her down.

But instead, let's just focus on this morning. Brian is in California, so it's just me against them. Did I say against? I meant and. Yeah. Mary woke up at 6, crying. So I nursed her in bed forever as this still calms her. Somehow, 2 hours later, I have not managed to leave the house. So I kick it in to high gear and hustle the girls out the door. When we got to "school" Annie has realized that we did not bring one of her stuffed cats. I had realized this on the way to school but at that point it was too late to turn back. So she's in tears. Luckily, awesome Miss Joanne scooped her up and calmed her with the promise of getting her choice of school stuffies. Annie did manage a weak, "Bye. Love you." through her drying tears.

So, off to the infant room! Here it was business as usual as Mary started clutching me harder once we entered the room. As I tried to set her down to take of her jacket, she would not detach. Not even a teacher's offer of crackers would calm her. But I had to go! I was running late for work and and hanging out would only delay the inevitable. So I handed her to crackerteacher and left to the sound of her crying. I was 2 for 2.

Lots of things are bothering me but mostly it's the feeling that I had forgotten about working and being a mom: You can't really ace both. Oh, some days you can, sure. But mostly, you will come up short on one or the other or both whether it's forgetting a stuffie or not knowing what's wrong with your little chum, you will fell terrible and failtastic.

What is wrong with Mary? I'll call the doctor again but even with my bosses out of town, I can't leave early for an appointment. I left early last week for her appointment and with such a small office, I have to be here today. Tomorrow, maybe I can take her. But what do I tell the doctor? She isn't herself? She seems to be in some sort of pain with the kicking and screaming. It can't be the ear infections anymore because she's been on the antobiotics for 5 days now. Although it looks like two big, honkin' teeth are coming in, she's not worrying her mouth at all. It msut be related to the poopsters. Sigh. I swear she's been sick since I started working again.

The icing on the cake

Duuudes,

The problem with the cake was that I forgot to frost in between the layers. There was no creamy frosting oasis amongst the sweet, sweet cake. Just more cake. So I brought out the extra can of frosting and we dipped. Yummy!

The blanket above is the Woven Moments one I was talking about. It came out great, didn't it? And it's thick, too. I just sent them a picture of Dallas and 7 weeks later the blanket came in the mail. Brian loved it, naturally. And since in the picture Dallas is sitting on the family room rug, and we keep the blanket in the family room, it matches perfectly. It's the circle of life, if life were color coordinated.

Mary is also pictured above, just cause. I have never changed the name of the file that I keep her pictures in on the computer. It's still called "MJ", her in utero name, short for Mary James, The Baby of Uncertain Gender. Just as Annie was AJ for the months preceding her debut. Mary still isn't cruising. Mostly, she can't even lift her tummy off the ground when she crawls. "Git that belly offa the ground yew yellow-bellied maggot!", I goad, to no avail. But girl can MOVE. And she finds trouble. One minute playing with parent-sanctioned baby toy, the next mouthing Henry's kong. Nice. For all her early personality flaws, Annie was not a trouble-seeking baby so this new vigilance is taking some getting used to.

Because I am slow, February is when my New Year's resolutions are going to take effect. Of course I want to lose weight. Will that be easier once I stop breastfeeding (the great myth of breastfeeding having been the weight that supposedly just falls off)? Or will this take a concerted effort to stop eating potato chips? And I want to blog more, cause I like to. And my e-mailing has really been falling off. And this JOB thing. Great, now I'm depressed.

The worst breastfeeding advice ever

Look, I ain't nobody's idea of the la leche poster mom. I am breastfeeding now because I did my homework and Mary played nicely. But I had intended to breastfeed Annie, really I had. But like most things in my life I just assumed it'd go okay without my actually having to like DO anything.

I did take a class. They showed a movie. The movie depicted an overty hirsuit woman (are there any other kind in childbirth related movies? Yeeg.) popping out her baby. The cord is cut and the baby TAKES IT UPON ITSELF TO SCOOTCH UP THE MOM'S BODY TO COMMENCE BREASTFEEDING. Yeah, I'm yelling, but come on. How was I not to think this was a piece of cake? The baby did all the work, people.

But that's not even the bad advice I got. I am not even sure how what happened there even could be framed as advice: Clear the alley from your hoo-ha to your breastages so that the baby may travel the path of least blah blah..

No, no. The worst advice came in my childbirth class. The RN who taught the class told us this welcome hint, "The night of your baby's birth, get a good night sleep. Tell the nurses to keep your baby overnight in the nursery-you'll need your rest." I didn't need to be told this twice. I never have to be told means by which to get more sleep twice. So she said it and I did it and my the time my baby met my breast, she had a taste for formula and a fairly intimate relationship with silicone nipples. I was powerless to intervene.

After the frustration of failed breastfeeding, I now know the truth. Never introduce the bottle if you want to breastfeed. Your baby won't starve. Their stomach is roughly the size of a marble those first few days. And the best advice: as soon as you can get your hands on that baby, do so and shove your boob in its mouth before it has a chance to think about it. I mean, this is such a crucial and proven piece of information. Someone might have mentioned it.

The downside to all of this is once you start breastfeeding, you are breastfeeding. You cease to be a person, you are a pair of breasts with a baby attached. You are always the star of the show and there is no understudy. More on the pros and cons to come. Boing.

Why Kangaroo Life?

When I was pregnant with my second daughter, I was trying to learn as much about breastfeeding as I could. I kept coming across this unfamiliar term: kangaroo care. As I understood it, this was a certain kind of mothering that involved just kind of strapping the baby on and keeping him or her as close to you as possible, with the boob available for snacking. The concept was a little too hands on for me, but the idea stuck with me, especially when Mary was born and became my pal joey; in my pouch as much as I'd allow. But it's not just Mary I carry with me, I thought. Aren't all of our pouches sort of overflowing with the things we carry? Aren't we all just a bunch o' kangaroos?

Friendships, family, memories, friends...the older I get the more I carry. I am not sure what the capacity is for a pouch but I started thinking that if I don't empty mine I might lose some of it. So this is my blog, here for safe keeping.

I imagine what I will mostly write about is what weighs me down the most which also happen to be the things that make me hop. Yeah, I don't get that either. Boing.