Where's My Cape?

I'm not a pervert. I'm nursing.

Have you been over to Momicillin lately? Had to share this one. Now, back to regularly scheduled programming...

Doctor in training

I'm sitting on the bar stool at the counter when Boy1 comes up to me wearing The Husband's old stethoscope in his ears. He places the bell (listening part) on my left thigh.

"Take a deep breath."

I inhale slowly and exhale.

He listens intently. "I hear something!"

I appear to have passed.

He moves on to his next patient.

(Would not want to know how much his malpractice premium is. But I like his bedside manner. That makes up for lack of technical skill, you know. Says my thigh.)

Hips don't lie

I'm back at work. I know.

Luckily, I can ease myself in, kind of like how it always takes me like 15 minutes to get into any pool. Toe by toe. And, so far so good. It's been nice to see everyone and the reaction has been pretty nice. Especially those comments that I look like I never had a baby. One female ancillary staff member looked me up and down with her head turned sideways to figure things out better before circling me while intently studying my circumference. Then she quizzed me how I did it: dieting? You must be exercising! (Um, no unless you've heard of the Ice Cream, peanut butter, and stuffing face diet, and NO. Unless you count nursing exercising - actually, was thinking I should slap on a sweatband on my forehead whenever I nurse to feel better about my complete ditching of my elliptical habit since giving birth. Like Lindsay with her Kegels in Arrested Development.)  Other women have called me skinny, as in "Hi, Skinny!" Don't think I'm not loving it because I am. Especially since I'm fooling them all with this little secret: I just hide poundage exceptionally well. I'm still in double-digits of weight surplus. But, Hips Don't Lie. Let's just say I won't be wearing any of my existing pants anytime soon. At least not on both legs at the same time.

When quite pregnant with Girl, I remember a co-worker telling me conspiratorily, "You are SO lucky. I know a woman who gained 40 POUNDS." I smiled back at her sweetly and just said, "Really?" Meanwhile, I was pushing 50 lbs at that time and still had some time to go. I think I have heavy bones or something.

The absolute most stressful part of returning to work is the pumping. Oh, the pumping! Each day, I lug so much gear in, and it's not like everyone doesn't know what you're lugging. Those Medela bags are dead giveaways. Fab. I'm so thankful, though, that I have a private office where I can barricade myself - but I forgot how much of a rigamarole it is and how much time it eats up of my already crazy cross-things-off-my-insane-to-do-list-back-from-maternity-leave days. I try to at least be productive during those sessions. I'll pull an article that I need to read, or do some meaningful web surfing (is there such a thing?) but today I was so engrossed in my chosen activity: clearing out my inbox of old large emails since my inbox will soon explode according to that graphic it sends me each day warning me of impending mailbox doom, that I didn't realize that I was -ahem- overflowing a bottle, leaving a large wet spot down my WHITE SILK skirt.  (NB: do not wear white silk skirts when doing anything but the most sterile and dry of activities).

I miss my Boy2 so much by the end of the day. I rush to hold him and breathe in his awesome babyness. Have I mentioned he's huge? He's wearing 6 month old clothing and he's just turned 3 months. I know. But the good thing is, he's proportionally ginormous. Hopefully, he won't make an appearance on Dateline for being one of those infants who has already reached 100 lbs.

And this concludes this very deep, insightful post of issues gripping the world at this moment.

That lady on the porch

So, I'm sitting on my porch enjoying the spring breeze with Boy2 when I notice there are 4 young girls (from the high school most likely) loitering across the street in the empty lot. One of them appears to be writing something on the posted sign there - VANDALIZING - while the other 3 watch her doing it. Um, dude. It's broad daylight! I'm across the street! Have you no compunction? Hello? Illegal!

I stood up, getting heated. "Is that your property?" I yell.

They look at me. The one sassy broad is still writing. DUDE. 

"I'm calling the police!" I threaten and storm inside. Boy2 starts crying. They start walking away casually.

Ugh!

I grabbed my cellphone inside and came back out. They were still walking away, occasionally looking back at Mad Woman. I held my phone up to take their picture.

"Got your picture!" I scream, all crazy-like.

One of the girls screams back, "Sorry!" but with a slight petulant tone.

Pretty soon they have vanished from view, and I'm still reverberating with anger. So not cool. Hope they realize what they did was wrong.

Afterwards, I felt a little bit like Cheri Oteri on SNL, when she was that mean old woman neighbor screaming out the screen door "I keep it now!"

I have become that lady. Now just need some hair rollers and a bathrobe.

Another reason nursing is a labor of love, or just a labor

Why did I think going on a business trip when Boy2 was 8 weeks old was a good idea? This is what I thought as I lugged my suitcase, pump, and mega-purse through the airport. First mission: pump. I recalled pumping in this same terminal 3 years ago, in a “Family Room” which was basically a private stall, sink, and changing table. However, I could now not locate such a labeled room but there were “Companion Care” rooms, or closets, I couldn’t tell with the doors closed. Next to bathrooms…now just needed to infiltrate one.

I nonchalantly (Don’t mind me! La-la-la) made my way to one, knocked quickly and opened the door. It was the size of a handicapped stall – with extremely bad feng shui. The commode faced the open door. There was the sink, a changing table, outlets (Money!) and an electric hand dryer…that was perma-on. It was like a rain forest in there. Awesome.

This would have to do.

Ugh, but it was hot in there. And loud.

I tried to find a way to turn off the blasting hot air. Alas. No dice. So, I set up all my gear: plugging, connecting tubes, attaching parts. I even was able to plug in and charge  my cell phone with the unused outlet. Not too shabby. I used the changing table as my home base for the pump to sit on and pretty soon I was ready. Just where to perch myself. I didn’t care to stand – AWK- WARD, but I wasn’t about to sit on the toilet either. Unfortunately, that did not leave any other sitting options. The floor? Ick. So, I squatted in front of the door, doubling as a human barricade in case the lock didn’t work. (Of which I was semi-paranoid. Nothing like being walked in on with 2 vaccuum funnels stuck to you) Lovely. If I'm making this seem more glamorous than it is, let me know.

Occasionally, the hand dryer would miraculously turn off. Why? Who knows. There was never anything beneath it to trigger, that was when the good old rhythm of the pump came through briefly…before the dryer went on again, perhaps triggered by an OCD ghost. Must. Wash. And. Dry. Hands. Boooooo.

But, success! I pumped a lot, which was good since I was about to get on a long flight.

Epilogue: Flight was too long. By the time I reached hotel, 7 hours had elapsed from prior pumping session. 7 hours. I'll just end with that.

The big recap of small things

Wow, it's been busy. As you can imagine, it's been a little action-packed over here, what with the newborn and the husband deployed, you know extremely non-stressful stuff. So much to tell, so little time (sleeping). But, I'm afraid I will be in such frenzy with everything, and in such a hurry for this year to be passed us, that I will forget the small things. Small things matter.

So, here's a little re-cap for the both of us.

BLOG GRATITUDE

I've been feeling thankful for this trusty blog lately, and more than a little bit guilty for the recent neglect. This blog, afterall, led me to some pretty awesome writing opportunities to drop on in like Mary Poppins via her umbrella. Who knew? It also led to becoming gURLfriends (need to make that my registered trademark) with some pretty awesome women. One has opened media (!) doors for me in the past couple of weeks and becoming a serious partner in crime, one I just met for the first time IRL over a lovely dinner (who just happened to be in town), one I brought as my date to a blogger party a couple of years ago - sight unseen (thrilled she turned out to be a seriously cool person and not some male psycho killer)...just realized these examples all have names that start with A! Coincidence? I think not. There are many more. Like C, my roomie at BlogHer, who never fails to crack me up and whose thoughtful messages make my day. Like C who writes from her heart, beautifully - I hope to meet up with again next week while I'm at a conference near her. The list goes on. Feeling grateful.

BOY 1 ANTICS

Boy 1 is going through the mean 3's - testing limits, throwing things, defiance, an all-around not fun time. He drives me crazy sometimes, even though I know he can't control his emotions or frustration yet, yadda yadda yadda. It's hard to stay angry though, since he is so darn cute. I mean, his cuteness should be illegal. I love the way he says "because" "p'toz." It's kind of adorable. And he says p'toz all the time with his adorable complex sentences. He's taken to attaching to some object during the day, say a frisbee or a jingle bell or (today) a tealight and carrying it around with him. This leads to becoming upset when he can't momentarily locate his item. Then, at bedtime, he sleeps with it. Sometimes wedged between his cheek and the pillow. He also loves wearing socks, even when it's hot. I have no explanation for this. It's not genetic, I promise you that.

BOY 2 ANTICS

Boy2, the baby, has gotten over his bad case of baby acne and now is battling cradle cap (although per the pediatrician it is no longer called "cradle cap" but "dandruff.") whatever, it's icky. Aside from that, he's been growing insanely. I'm amazed, as I was with the other 2, that he's grown so huge on breastmilk alone. I know I shouldn't be amazed - I mean, that's what it's for, but it seems like he's been taking steroids or something. He is that big. 99th percentile for height and weight at his 2 month check-up. He is still as sweet as pie and the cooing and smiling are near killing me. I've realized, I will do ANYTHING to make him smile. The 1 part I'm not so fond of is the eating every 2 1/2-3 hours STILL including at night. Um, dude.

PUMPING INSANITY

In preparation for going away on a work trip next week, I started pumping at the beginning of April. My goal? To have enough breastmilk saved up for 3 whole days. The first time I tried to pump, something like 1/2 cc came out TOTAL, FROM BOTH SIDES. Beyond sad. But, it's amazing how this supply/demand thing works because since then, I have banked about 120 oz. I am totally serious. It's getting to be a problem since now I have to pump, or else. And, I clearly have not relaxed my breastmilk-only-or-I-have-failed overachieving standards. But, I tell myself, pumping is basically equivalent to working out an extra time a day, so that makes it worth it from an energy expediture/get back into normal non-elasticized clothes standpoint.

MY BIG GIRL

Girl turned 6 and we hosted a paint-your-own pottery party in our house. It was super fun and we even were able to skype in the husband who sang Happy Birthday along with the rest of us via laptop on the table. Girl professed her love for one of the attendees and chased him around the house saying "lovey-lovey- I want to marry you." Poor boy was frightened and could be heard saying, "Can you stop that, please?" Does it start this early??? Girl also lost another tooth and I carried out Tooth Fairy duties for the first time. The other 2 teeth, the Husband took care of the mission since I was too anxious of her waking up during the recon. It went without a hitch and I felt triumphant..unti the next morning when she seemed miffed that TF only left her $2. I then explained to her that we were in a recession and TF may have had to tighten her belt like the rest of us.

ENTERTAINMENT

Um, dude. Bossypants is the bomb. The back cover alone is awesome. Tina Fey: I worship you. I'm halfway through and will be sad to finish it. She is a comedic genius. I haven't laughed out loud this much since I don't know when. Slightly embarassed to admit that I totally dug The Voice premiere. I haven't watched a tv show proper in months and months. Like. Plus, I have a soft spot for Adam Levine ever since Maroon 5 played at the inaugural ball we attended and we got to rock out in the front row (1,000 times better live than on radio).

Up ahead next week: First cavity filling for Girl :(  and work trip with pumping insanity, portable-edition.

When Irish eyes are smiling

Girl: I wish we were from Ireland.

Me: Why?

Girl: Because then we'd be Irish and I would know 3 languages: English, Spanish from Dora, and Irish talk.

 

Brotherly love: Exhibit A

 

The imaginative powers of a 3 year old

We're in the car Saturday morning and Boy starts saying he doesn't want to go to swimming lessons.

Me: Knowing how to swim is very important--it helps keeps you safe in the water.

Girl: Yeah, and if you don't know how to swim, you'll drown and die!

Boy: If you're small, you'll fit down the drain.

[laughter all-around ensues, first mine, then Girl's, then Boy's --who doesn't get the joke but wants to]

Boy's imagination and language are blooming - great for his development, not so great for sleeping at night when there's all kinds of shadows hiding monsters, nefarious light blinks, and evil-eyed smoke detectors.  I know we went through this with Girl, but somehow it was more do-able. Oh, yeah, since we didn't have 2 other little people around vying for our sleep deprivation attention. Even after moving Boy into Girl's room temporarily, he still gets "scar-eed." Hopefully, this will end soon.

And Boy2 will sleep through the night. (HA.) (But, seriously? Boy2 is so sweet and so far, the easiest baby of the 3. Loving him so, despite spending an obscene proportion of each day attending to his nutritional needs.)

Mental note: do better job of teaching anatomy

Boy: Are you feeding him [Boy2] with your elbow?