Real Moms Cry Over Spilled Milk

Breastmilk makes me emotional…

– I feel indignant when someone suggests something in my milk is making my son sick.

– I feel angry when my husband forgets to put the bottle back in the fridge at the end of the night and I have to pour the "liquid gold" down the drain. (Though not too angry since he did take the late night shift so I could get some sleeeeeep.)

– I feel exhausted when I close my office door to pump AGAIN.

– I feel weepy when my breast pump cracks and the milk I work so hard for spills. (But, I can’t cry because I have to maintain some shred of professional dignity while wearing my milk-stained blouse and trousers to my next meeting.)

– I feel wistful when I think of milkshakes and grilled cheese sandwiches and all the other yummy dairy treats I’ve given up to make this work.

– I feel astonishment when I look at how much my son as grown and developed while existing almost entirely on the milk I produce. Our bodies truly are amazing.

– I feel gratitude when I think of the encouragement I got when breastfeeding was a dirty word and I was struggling.

– I feel proud that despite all the difficulties, I am still breastfeeding as my son turns 5 months old today.

Real Moms make room in the minibar for breastmilk.

I wrote this post as part of the meme that Kristen at The Mom Trap started. You can see the other Real Mom Truths here .

Here’s how it works:
Put up a post "Real Moms [insert what you do here]", followed by an
explanation (feel free to use more sentences than just one run-on one
like me), a picture, and a "Real Moms. Making ….". Then tag five
people.

I’m tagging Sheri and Abby K.

Jazzercise Jazzy Jazz

Ben Kweller has been a frequent flier on my ipod for awhile now. So, when I saw this video, I instantly fell in love. This is really his grandma – she’s got such spunk! May we all be so spunky some day.

Swing Time

Hmmmm. I’m not sure about these swings…

Well, maybe they aren’t soooo bad. Weee!

Higher, please!

Wow, it’s tiring being this cute. I think I’ll take a nap here in the swing.

5 Months!

5 Months of Spence. Almost half a year. Time is flying now. I have to admit those first few weeks months were looong. They were tough. Luckily, I can say without a doubt that this month was the best month yet.

Favorite part of this month: The laughs. He thinks I’m the funniest person on earth and the laughs come so easily. A touch of the nose, a rub of the belly, telling a story, singing a song, just looking at him – he cracks up. It feels great to see him react so happily to my every move. He’s oozing personality now. And, he’s definitely a momma’s boy and I’m just fine with that.

Milestones this month:

Rolling over from back to front
(Almost) his first tooth (there’s still some time yet)
Real laughter
Riding on the swings at the playground

Tough stuff this month: The teething is not easy for any of us. The Baby Orajel seems to be helping now though. Sleep could be better, but we’ve kind of gotten into a non-routine routine. We still have no idea what time bedtime will be on any particular night, but once we’re in bed things are pretty routine (meaning we wake up every 3 hours to eat then pass out again). Oh, and poor daddy is now sleeping on the couch while we spread out in the bed.

Things we’re looking forward to next month:

Experimenting with food
Sitting up without lots of props
The Easter Bunny
The Half-Year Celebration Extravaganza (if I get around to planning it!)

Cross your eyes and dot your teeths

This morning I took Spencer to his eye doctor appointment which was conveniently located all the way at the other end of the earth. Well, it was on the Upper West Side, but it was quite a trek – our longest subway ride so far, by far. And the first time I attempted to take the stroller on the subway. (I’d like to stop and thank all the people who did not help me carry the stroller up and down those steps. It’s nice to know I look so healthy and strong that you would not even think to help me.)

The good news is that his eyes are perfectly fine. The bad news is that apparently he has a wide nose that is causing it to appear that his eyes are crossing. Instead his eye is being partially hidden by his extra-wide sniffer. The only remedy is that let him "grow into his nose". And in the meantime, I will continue to thank the inventor of the digital camera which allows me to easily toss out the 9 out of 10 photos I take of him where his eyes *appear* crossed.

In other equally important news… Teething IS indeed afoot. All the chaos of the weekend – the not eating, the crying jags – suddenly made sense last night when the nanny told me to feel his gums and there it was – the first little tooth jutting out right below the gum. It’s only a matter of time before we have our first tooth!

Isn’t it ironic…

(In my best Alanis Morisette voice)

… that now that I can ~~fit~~ squeeze into my pre-pregnancy pants, I hate them all?

… that this week my baby decided he doesn’t like nursing anymore AND my breast pump cracked so now half the milk I pump leaks out?

… that we moved from a 1-bedroom to a 2-bedroom apartment before the baby was born, but 5 months later we’re all still sleeping in the same room?

… that today is St. Paddy’s day and all the glorious, GREEN signs of spring we saw last week are now covered in ice and snow?

Happy St. Paddy’s Day to ya’ll. May no strangers kiss you just because you’re Irish. Yuck.

Biological ties

Last night my (biological) father called my mom. She was shocked and didn’t answer the phone when she saw his name on caller id. I don’t blame her. She hasn’t talked to him in over 30 years – you know since she was pregnant with me. I have never seen or spoken to him despite growing up in the same town where he lives. Apparently when I was younger, I walked by him at the mall once with my mom, but words have never been exchanged.

When my mom told me this morning that he had called, I had to ask his name. That’s how little I know about this man. I have basically come to terms with the idea that I would never meet him, know him, or talk to him. There’s always been a little piece of me, pushed way down deep inside, that wonders how he could know that I am his child and never want to be part of my life. But, I keep that buried as deep as possible. Instead my approach has been that if he doesn’t want to be part of my life, his loss. My life is quite full without him in it. And besides I have a father – maybe he didn’t have a hand in biologically creating me – but he’s been my father for almost as long as I can remember.

But, now my mind is racing with questions – why would he call after all these years? If he would be interested in meeting me, would I want to meet him? I’m a grown woman with a child of my own – do I really need to go down this road? My first instinct is to say definitely not. But, then why am I burning with curiousity wondering why he called and if he’ll call again?

Last night

First, I went to a photography class at the local college. The class was pretty good. Then I met my sister for lunch at McDonald’s. Afterwards it was time to head to my juggling class. But, before we could learn how to juggle, we had to make the balls. Which apparently are made out of wool. So, I had to get the wool off my sheep. To get it off, I had to stretch its furry layer of skin up over his head (kind of like how a snake sheds his skin) to reveal a slimy hairless underlayer (not a pretty sight). This was excrutiatingly difficult, so I gave up and left my sheep with a big wad of fur around his neck – like a cowl neck sweater. Enough with the sheep… Now it was time for me to go to the horse show. Except I was wearing a onesie. I found a sweatshirt and jacket in the car so I put on the sweatshirt and tied the jacket around my waist and went inside. Next thing I know I’m in a room alone chowing on chicken nuggets. That’s when the nice fireman knocked on the door and told me there was a carbon monoxide leak so i had to leave. So, I walked down the hall carefully stepping over the college co-eds who were passed out in the hall after a night of drinking and went into a vintage store. I found a dress I loved and tried it on. It was too small. Things are always too small for me in these stores, I don’t even know why I went in…

And, you guessed it – that’s about the time Spencer woke me up. I don’t usually remember my dreams, so I’m not sure if this was particularly strange for me or if the weirdness quotient was upped after a weekend spent vacuuming glass from a carseat and suctioning boogers out of a sick baby’s nose. All this while also losing an hour of precious sleep. At least I slept long enough to dream though.

PS – Annmarie and JP – my favorite lurkers – it was great to see you on Sunday. Hope I’m not scaring you. Having twins is going to be a BREEZE!

Bad “carma”

This morning when I went to the car, I found a pile of green tinted safety glass on the sidewalk and a big gaping hole where the passenger window used to be. There was a rock lying on the driver’s seat. A big rock. Glass everywhere. Even on the carseat. Nothing was stolen. Probably just some kids having fun – that’s what the police said.

So, instead of going to the Target to buy diapers and a vacuum cleaner, I filed a report with New York’s Finest then found a dirty cardboard box on the street which I used to cover the seat and protect my buttocks from the broken glass while I went in search of a repair shop that would fix my car today. My life is SO glamarous sometimes – isn’t it?