May 13, 2013
The complaint list about pregnancy was in this post. And while I am completely grateful for my sassy children (as in I’d do it all again which I just did), there’s a whole new crop of indecent and just plain annoying items to contend when maintaining a newborn.
For instance, I could make a mound of money developing a comfortable molded cart with brakes for women having an epidural procedure. While the needle’s being stuck into the spinal column, the pregnant woman is asked to contort her body, as in hunch over her humongous belly, and stay perfectly still. Try this while having contractions and leaning on a stranger. The anesthesiologist managed to stick me wrong and had to redo it.
You may not have heard but my baby got GERD, otherwise known as reflux for wee ones. Eamon took liquid Zantac. I again could make a mound ‘o money creating a baby happy flavored Zantac other than mint. Chem lab idiots. Try booby bubblegum flavor or triple nipple chip. A spoonful of sugar people.
High on my list of annoyances are the little plastic price tag attachers for new clothing. When snipped, they turn into little plastic splinters you have to painstakingly remove from both the clothing and floor or bed or couch or wherever the other piece falls. Unpacking and washing new clothing becomes dreadful and prohibitive for this one small detail.
Who thought those baby gowns were a good idea. They’re little baby potato sacks that are open at the bottom. And when you even think to move or hold the baby, they ride up lickety split and then your baby’s dangling out of a cloth inner tube. Plus the arms are so long that feeding the delicate hands and fingers of a newborn through them is scary and as annoying as the escaped drawstring on sweatpants. Except pants don’t scream and have breakable fingers. I just ended up cutting them off. The sleeves not my baby’s arms.
We new mothers tend to jump up and run to the wee ones every loving time they burble, snarfle, or grouse. I call it “Pogo Mommy” and my knees hurt as much as my boobies. While attending to her every twitch, I think I’ve probably caused the baby sleep deprivation. Well serves her right for keeping me up.
Trying to get the mother thing “right” can cause madness. Is my baby fussy because I ate dairy? Or broccoli? Or coffee? Am I talking to much about the baby because my husband’s glazed donut expression must mean I am. Baby, baby, baby.
Their little baby fingers are so sweet and lovely. And at the ends are very sharp little claws that cause excruciating pain when stabbed into a naked boob. So I had to get new reading glasses to see them to cut them. And then I still ended up snipping off the end of my baby’s fingertip while blindly clipping away. Nothing better than making your child bleed out with a pair of nail clippers.
The fact that you’ re a new mother doesn’t escape everyone. They sharply say things about how you should have a seat and enjoy and not overdue too soon. What I should have said was if they wanted to come and do my four loads of laundry and make the dinner …
But the ones that get to me the worst talk for the baby in a first person baby voice to me. They say things like, “ Mommy I’m sweepy, “ Um, the baby spent 9 months in my belly and keeps me up a lot of nights. I know she’s sweepy. And no, “hers” doesn’t need to poop.
Why would a person stop to consider whether or not it’s a good time to take a shower? I know that I need one. I smell like barf and BO and yet I stop to consider whether now’s a good time? It’s as pathetic as all the t-shirts I now own that I should never wear out in public and yet somehow still manage to.
And lastly, because the tatas are made for milking, I have to wear an absorbent pad over my nipples to soak up the overflow. Except these expensive padded discs are equipped with only one adhesive strip. So when you whip it out, the pads don’t stay in place. And the adhesive unsticks. Or ends up sticking to your nipple. I’m considering getting pantyliners and cutting them up because They’re thinner and the adhesive is stickier.
Officially, I collected up my gripes and now I’m done. I’ve complained enough. Thanks for reading my rants. And if you stopped and deleted me from your email, I’ll never know anyway. Bunnies and lollipops I now promise to you.
May 10, 2013
We celebrated Fiona’s arrival last weekend with a few close friends.
An opportunity to share her and entertain. I’d forgotten how much we enjoy throwing a party. And I wanted to prove that I still have it. Even with the wee Fi hanging off me, I managed to make most of the food ahead of time. And decorate enough to make myself happy.
Terry, Fiona, and Me
Mark and his Aunt Barbara
Aunt Annette and Uncle Paul
Eamon got some presents too while Fiona was a hot potato
Fiona was the Belle of this Party
Eamon read to little Carolina from Super Diaper Baby
Pegeen and Caitlin
Shelly with her daughter Ginny and Gayle. Red headed babies!!
Lamb chop puppet from Lisa. Eamon grabbed her up and eventually made her annoying.
Daisies, Stock, Solidago, and Waxflowers were the base for my arrangements.I made the ceiling treatment from the darling paper lantern I got at Bella Luna in Rehoboth and the vintage lanterns which hung in a tree for our wedding.
So Many beautiful pink cards to add to the decorating. They are everywhere.
And Miss Pegeen got THE outfit. So now I have to stage the photo shoot.
And the perfect Christmas ornament from Miss Amanda.
Stolen idea from Decor8, ribbons on the light fixture.
And a last swag of this thrifted fabric that screams girl
We are so grateful to the powers that be to have given us both a beautiful daughter and a charming handsome son. And that we have so many to count us as dear friends and we them. And happy to have our house looking so dapper. Because there’s no surer way to get to all those tasks done than have a party. And to get some leftovers. And your kid clothed. And a fence built. And… Mark’s 50th is in October! Party Girl is back and she’s got a protegé.
May 8, 2013
She was like impending doom watching me from the other side of the room. One of many of the parade members. They were all just letting themselves in. As hospital staff, they all have a purpose there. But something about her wolflike stare creeped me out. She had a true purpose. And it was breastfeeding.
The hospital has two fulltime gals for the specific purpose of coaching, training, and assisting with the new mothers with their breastfeeding “plan”. This isn’t just a job for them, they’re missionaries.
Their belief is a altruistic. That breastfed children enjoy many benefits to their health that they wouldn’t if they’re just on formula. Immunity, intelligence, security, and much much more. I don’t disagree.
What they also know is that having a baby is extremely scary and painful and breastfeeding only adds fuel to that scary fire. I found it messed with my head but good to know that this creature’s survival was dependent on something that came out of my body that I didn’t have conscious control over. And your nipples really really hurt, your breasts ache, and sometime you get this feeling like you want to peel the leech off of your personal space and go screaming off into the night.
Her Leche League leading self was trying to act calm during her first uninvited visit. She sat in the chair and asked if I had any questions. I knew she wanted me to show her my technique. And I wasn’t about to do that. Not for nobody. I’d read those pamphlets, watch videos, and talk to anyone but her. It was a proprietary conversation during which I happened to spill water on my newborns head. She didn’t crack a smile. Just stared at me with that lupine stare. She creeped me out.
She showed up uninvited to my hospital room the next day (stalking me) during the exact moment when I began my breakdown from the constant flow of people showing up unannounced in my room to poke and prod me and the baby. I am sure she was still wanting a technique demonstration. And she got the bums rush with everyone else so I could relax for a few hours.
I am still breast feeding, not that it’s anyone’s business. It takes the patience and temperament of a saint. Honestly, selflessness isn’t any of our natural propensities. But we’re doing it. And we’re throwing down a couple of ounces of formula for good measure. At first to put weight on her. Now to get probiotics in her.
And don’t worry Breast Police, she is a nipple snob. She absolutely hates any rubber nipple in her mouth. Aren’t you happy? Keep doing what you’re doing if only because you have the children’s well being in mind. But I’ll hope not to meet you in a dark hospital alley any time soon.