dear day, you sucked.

This is going to be a quick post, because I’m having computer issues. The cord that plugs into my laptop to charge it has gotten frayed and split, and has ceased to charge my computer anymore unless it is bent and positioned JUST SO. More proof that anything electronic hates me.

Scott is doing wonderful! He is grinning all the time now! As sweet as he is, he is also starting to show a little bit of ‘baby temper’, but I guess that is normal. When I set him on the Boppy, he knows that it is time to eat, and he gets very impatient. If I take too long whipping my boob out, he starts swinging his arms in a circle, whacking me in the process. It sorta looks like he is a mad orchestra conductor, swinging his arms around to an unheard section of woods and strings. So, whenever he gets going, I always tell my husband that Scotty is once again, “conducting the fuss orchestra.” haha!

I’ve almost lost all of the baby weight! I should have the rest of it off soon. I’m still working out and watching what I eat, but I’m also allowing myself to drink beer and have some pizza when I crave it. My eating disorder behavior… it is totally transformed! I’ve never had such a healthy relationship with food, and I’m loving it!

The weather is total crap here, and the roads are icy and snowy. I was almost rear-ended today while on my way to a doctor appointment on base. The guy that almost hit me ended up sliding at the last moment and crashing up into someone’s yard! I was so terrified, because I had Scott with me. When I got to my appointment, I checked in at the Family Wellness clinic only to be informed that I was at the WRONG CLINIC. They had moved me to the Residency clinic without ever informing me. I got assigned a new doctor and everything. It was really puzzling. I have always gone to the FW clinic, so I have no idea what that was all about. I am pretty much fed up with being yanked around by the base hospital. I know that I don’t pay for my health care being a dependent and all, but believe me, I PAY FOR IT IN ONE WAY OR ANOTHER. For all the things that military spouses put up with, I’m sick of being treated like crap by the health care system. Ok, I’m done bitching!

DH’s car broke down on base today, so he is with a friend as I write this, trying to fix his vehicle. It is horrible and nasty outside, so I hope he gets home soon!

One nice thing about not being pregnant anymore is that I can treat myself to a glass of red wine after a day like today, which is exactly what I am doing! Scott is napping, so I opened up a bottle of Czech wine that DH brought back for me after one of his TDYs. I can only have one glass since I’m breastfeeding, but that is sufficient. Hopefully tomorrow will be better… here’s hoping.

i can never show my face again at the base hospital pharmacy.

Scotty has thrush in his mouth. Poor little guy! I noticed a thick white coating on his tongue this weekend, and suspected that he probably had it. I got an appointment for him at the base hospital earlier today, and got him some Nystatin. And some for me. Yep, he gave me his thrush. I have a super itchy red rash on my nipples, and I’m scratching so hard at my skin that I tore open one of my nipples (cue the cringe and “YOWWWW!”) from my rabid scratching. Ughhh. It was awesome because I had to sit in the busy pharmacy area for about fifteen minutes after the appointment, waiting for the prescriptions, and I COULD NOT STOP SCRATCHING MY BOOBS. I tried to be discreet, but I couldn’t NOT SCRATCH, because it felt like fiery ants were biting underneath my skin. Uncontrollable boobage itching ensued. There was a Captain (in uniform) sitting in a chair next to me, and he crept to the far edge of his seat, giving me horrified looks the entire time. I wanted to say, “It’s ok! My boobie fleas are actually really lazy, they won’t jump over on you.”

Speaking of the base hospital pharmacy… I had a meltdown there yesterday.

I was out of refills for my daily-control asthma inhaler. I need it. To breathe and stuff. When I called the pharmacy last week to ask if they could call in a refill from my doctor, the pharmacist said they couldn’t do anything for me, that I had to make another appointment with my Primary Care person to be prescribed more medicine. I didn’t realize that this is how the military does things (I was used to having a civilian doctor for so long, and he called in prescriptions for me all the time without an appointment), otherwise I would have called and made the appointment sooner than the day before my meds ran out.

So, I made an appointment for an asthma check-up and was told by the receptionist at the clinic that since I now had an appointment time scheduled, I could get a ‘one time’ refill at the pharmacy for my Symbicort. All she said was, “Tomorrow make a trip to the pharmacy. Go to the third window and tell them you have an appointment with a doctor, and they’ll give you an inhaler just this once, that way you don’t have to wait another two weeks without having your medicine.”

Sooo, I showed up to get the inhaler last Wednesday, and the pharmacist on duty told me that she couldn’t give it to me, because I had to show up between the hours of 2-4 pm to get the inhaler. It was 4:04. The pharmacy was open until 5 p.m., but they only took ‘one-time refills’ until 4 p.m. I was pissed, since the receptionist didn’t include that bit of information. And I was already out of my Symbicort by this time, so I was feeling sorta wheezy.

Then Thanksgiving was Thursday and the clinic was closed on Friday, so I had to wait even longer for my inhaler. All weekend I was feeling tight in my lungs, and had to use my rescue inhaler a lot.

Sooo, I showed up AGAIN yesterday, Monday, at 2:30 p.m. to get the inhaler. I bopped up to the counter and handed over my military ID, saying that I was here for my ‘one time’ refill. The pharmacist: “Oh. That’s only between the hours of 2-4 on Tuesdays through Thursdays.”

Oh, hell no. I pretty much lost it. I’m not confrontational, so I didn’t yell or get bitchy or anything. Actually, this is much worse. I started crying. I couldn’t help it. I was so frustrated, and so f*cking sick of the GD base hospital!!! The last time they wouldn’t give me my asthma medication (they refused to prescribe me any, and told me that pregnant women can’t take any asthma drugs that are on the market today, which is a HUGE LIE), I ended up at the ER when I was 6 weeks pregnant, having a massive asthma attack. It was happening all over again! All I could think was that I was going to die of an asthma attack because I couldn’t get a stupid f*cking inhaler! AGAIN! Everyone in the pharmacy was staring. The pharmacist looked very flustered when I started crying, quickly disappeared, and then came back with my inhaler! TA-DA! Cry in front of a man, and he will chew off his own leg to get away from your hysterics, even if he does have to break procedure to get you to go away. Haha!!!

The bad news is, I’m sure there is now a bulletin taped to the inside of the pharmacist’s break room with my picture on it. ALERT PROPER AUTHORITIES! WHINY BABY! BOOB-SCRATCHER!

SAHM, post-baby vanity,ditching rob zombie for peanut m&ms.

I’ve been in a baby black hole. I don’t even know what day it is. Oh, wait. I do know that today is Saturday beause DH and I are GOING OUT! More on that later. Excuse the madness please, and here is my version of ‘blog vomit’, meaning, I’m opening my brain and everything is about to come flying out:::::
First things first:

1. Mr. Squeakers is growing like a weed! He is still doing wonderful at nursing, and is about 13 lbs at 6 weeks old. What can I say, he likes to eat! He has outgrown all of his newborn outfits and even some of his 3 month outfits. We just love him to pieces. Yesterday, he began to smile at us, and not because he is playing the booty drums and tooting. If I hold him close and coo at him, he breaks out into the sweetest gummy grin. I can’t even begin to explain how wonderful he is and how much I love being his mama!

I had been planning on going back to work tomorrow, but I changed my mind for several reasons. One, because I realized that I would be working every Saturday and Sunday until the second week in January, leaving me very little time to see DH (now that he goes to bed at 7 pm). Two, because I am up all hours of the night and don’t sleep that much and although DH and myself find my scatterbrained sleep-deprived ramble funny, my stodgy coworkers probably won’t. Three, although working at a very popular department store during Christmas season can be fun and festive, it is also going to be a lot of long shifts and subordinate bullshit. Last year we were lucky to get a break to go to the bathroom. That isn’t going to fly when I need to take a 30 minute pump-break RIGHT NOW because my boobs are turning into hard rocks and/or Super-Soakers. Four, DH will be resuming his normal TDY schedule (as in, he is gone at least 2 weeks out of every month) in January, so I will be Mr. Squeakers only physically-present parent and won’t be able to work past then anyways. Five, because my old manager made this huge production out of asking me to verbally avow to make a ‘commitment to better attendance’, and it pissed me off. She said something like, “I know your sister was sick and you had some pregnancy problems, but we need you to be dependable this time around.” I think a few times I went home early so I could babysit my 31-year old sister’s little kids while she went to chemotherapy, HOW DARE I?! As for the pregnancy issues, I was barfing. I’m not very publicly presentable when I’m upchucking.

So, I’m a SAHM for now. (Stay At Home Mom).

2. The weight is coming off quickly. I think I’ve lost 8 lbs. since I blogged last, and that was about 2 weeks ago. The breastfeeding helps with the calorie burning, but to be honest, I’m also working my freakin’ ass off! I’m going to be honest about something. I have this stupid fear. I don’t want to be a dowdy, overweight, let-herself-go mom. I know that sounds vain… But here is the thing. I felt like I let myself go during this pregnancy. I ate healthy, but I still ate too much. I stopped highlighting my hair, I stopped getting my nails done, I let my dark tan fade (that part isn’t bad). I was lazy. I walked, but stopped Pilates, running, cross-country skiing and strength-training. Having Mr. Squeakers was worth anything and everything, but I would really like to get back into great shape.

A few days before I found out I was pregnant, I bought a really sexy top to wear out with DH, who wasn’t Dear Husband at that time, but Dear Boyfriend. Haha. Anyways, I never got to wear that top. I forgot about it until recently. The tags are still on it. And last night I pulled it out of the closet and hung it on my door as motivation to keep going on this fitness journey. I present to you, my ‘It will be mine… Oh yes, it will be mine’ holy grail:

3. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I’m having the funkiest dreams lately. Last night was chock full of trippy weirdness. The first one was hilarious… because I had a dream that included one of my blog readers! K! http://katery.wordpress.com/ Haha! In the dream, I was having a house-warming party. DH was nowhere to be found in this dream, but my dad and mom were at my party. K came over, and we were sitting on my tacky blue couch talking about pregnancy and babies. I was drinking a ton of red wine, and was getting tipsy. I got up from the couch and went into the kitchen to get K a glass of Crystal Light, because in my dreams she was pregnant just like in real life, and she couldn’t drink any wine like the rest of us. But when I was trying to pour her drink, I was so drunk that I fell down and broke the last glass that I had in my cupboard. Isn’t that weird? I was so upset about it, and I kept crying.

The second dream was that DH and I went to a movie directed by Rob Zombie. It was seriously scary, and I was starting to feel really anxious sitting in the dark. I decided to leave the movie theater. Instead of just getting up and walking out, I got on my belly Army-crawl style and started maneuvering myself towards the exit door. I was just about to escape out the door when the movie screen tore open, revealing a small stage. Everyone stood up and started cheering. Rob Zombie walked onto the stage and started giving an impromptu concert. I love Rob Zombie. But all I could think about was shoving my mouth full of peanut m&ms. So, I left the concert and DH so I could go buy candy to binge on. I don’t have disordered eating anymore, but I guess my brain still remembers my crazy binge sessions after bouts of starvation. Ha!

I also keep dreaming about smoking cigarettes again. I don’t crave them at all when I’m awake, but lately I have dreams of lighting up. It is so strange…

***

DH and I are going out tonight, and I am so excited! We are going to be hanging out with a few of his work buddies and their wives. My sister will be taking Mr. Squeakers until about 11:30 pm, so I pulled a few bags of breast milk out of the freezer for tonight. Speaking of going out, you may remember me talking about going out for a girl’s night a couple weeks ago. It was a lot of fun, but at first I wanted to go home because I missed Mr. Squeakers like crazy. I kept texting my husband and asking him to send me pictures of the baby. After awhile, I started to relax and have fun. It was nice to be around other adults besides DH. I tried to take pictures of our dinner festivities, but I forgot all about it until we got done eating and made it to the bar, and it was too dark in there to get good pictures. I had somehow managed to turn the flash off on my camera, and I didn’t realize it!

HAHAHA!!!!

This was a pitcher of beer we ordered, and I was trying to be funny and drink out of it ‘a la frat boy’. I may be a mother, but I’m still refreshingly immature. And for any judgmental meanies who stumble upon my blog, Mr. Sqeakers drank previously pumped milk when I got home that night, up until the next morning, so he was kept safe from the 3 beers I drank that night.

Well, I’m off to take Mr. Squeakers on our walk!

are you drunk or something?

I have a new definition of ‘normal’. Normal used to be eating when/what I wanted, sleeping when my body necessitated the need for rest, and living with a fun but still sane degree of spontaneity.

My current ‘order of life’ post-baby:

1. I still am in clothing limbo. Nothing fits. This means that I have taken to wearing a rather odd assortment of clothing and throwing together zesty and puzzling outfits that rival the ingenuity and flair of a Wal-Mart drop-out. Who needs Haute Couture when I’m honing my apparel skills around these few wonderful items of attire: a Guinness beer shirt with a hole in the armpit (I have mentioned this shirt before, oh yes, I really am this classy), some stretchy pants, a Nebraska Cornhuskers sweatshirt, and two surprisingly cute identical loose-fitting shirts (in black and green) that I bought when I found out I was pregnant. Everything else. Looks. Asinine. Not that my Guinness beer shirt doesn’t look stupid, but at least it fits over my boobs and it is black, so when my chest springs a leak, it isn’t so conspicuous. Otherwise, I’m screwed. My behemoth boobies are light-years and thousands of calories away from staying contained in any of my old tops. I didn’t think they could get bigger… and theeeen… the milk came in 3 days post-birth. Oh. My. God. The jeans that I used to wear with the Bella-Band until month 6 are zip-up-able, but are so tight that I am left with not a muffin top, but a goddamn loaf top. It looks like the lower half of my gut is fleeing the tyranny of claustrophobic junior-sized denim and is trying to escape from my waistband. Freeeeedom! Anyways, lately I’ve been out walking the baby or visiting my family wearing one of my 3 shirts and my stretchy pants. Nothing matches. I just put on whatever isn’t covered with baby spit-up, and then throw on a few accessories. I try to look somewhat put-together, but when I’m trying to make outfits out of weird crap, I just look like Bjork.

What happened to my old maternity clothing, you may be asking… Well. The maternity pants just look dumb now, the waistband flops forward so far it looks like I’m packing major heat. And by packing heat, I mean, it looks like I have a wiener. Which is really hilarious when your eyes roam upwards and I also happen to have beachball-sized boobies. Aren’t you so glad you get to read about this on my blog? I sure am. This all leads me to a minor problem, which is, that I’m supposed to go on a little (and very tame) girl’s night out on Saturday, and I have absolutely nothing to wear that won’t make me look like I’ve been diving in dumpsters all afternoon before stumbling into a location of public gathering. I’m not declaring, “I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR!” in that annoying girl way, I mean it, I really have nothing to wear. I get weird looks when I’m trekking around base housing pushing a stroller, so there is no way in hell I can go to a restaurant in one of my get-ups. I might have to go buy some cheap clothes, cheap because well I’m cheap, and also because I don’t plan on looking like this forever, so I’m not shelling out $80 a pair of jeans that will fit me for a month. Also, I need clothing because I am…going back to work. And at the same place I quit over Mean Girl-esque behavior. BUUUT, the queen bee that I despised is long-gone, and I can deal with her underling minions just fine. We aren’t hurting for money, but I’m going to be a bad mom and admit that I sorta need to get out of the house for a small shift 2 days a week, so I can keep my sanity and quit trying to talk to other adults in baby-talk. Yikes. So, I need to go get some dressy pants and a few acceptable blouses in the next two weeks. And I’ll only be doing small shifts when DH is off work, so I don’t have to worry about day care or anything.

2. The Baby-Lobotomy Syndrome… Speaking of baby-talk (I seriously caught myself cooing at my husband while asking a really mundane question, like, “Should we have brown rice with that chicken?”), I have also become mentally incapacitated. My vocabulary which used to be sorta impressive and fly out of my mouth effortlessly, has vacated, and is being replaced with words like, “great” and “cute”. I forgot the word for ‘basket’ yesterday. I tried to put socks on my feet when I was already wearing socks. I’m too tired to locate the clever or functioning-human receptors in my brain. I am seriously sleep-starved and my mind has turned into a pile of pink mush. More examples: Yesterday I was changing the baby… I put a clean diaper under Mr. Squeaker’s booty, then spent a few frantic seconds looking for the very diaper that I had JUST PUT ON THE BABY. I did this in front of a friend, who laughed and inquired, “Are you drunk or something?” Nooo… I just wish I was. And the topper? Today I asked DH if he knew where my phone was, while I was on it and calling someone. Hellooo? I have lost it. Officially. I don’t know how I’ll go back to work, this should be interesting.

3. Mr. Squeakers should someday join the CIA. I’ve decided this because he has creepy baby-radar. He uses his baby-radar to discern if I have just sat down and am raising a fork to my mouth. The second I am about to ingest food, he crinkles his face and begins wailing. It doesn’t matter if I just fed him ten minutes before, if I’m about to eat, he unloads his baby wrath. It is fail proof. Dependable as the sun coming up in the morning. I fed him twice in a half hour today, but when my Weight Watcher’s Smart Ones Lasagna came out of the microwave, he woke from a deep sleep to begin crying and trying to stuff his fist into his mouth. And for people who don’t know what that means, it means: FEED ME. NOW. And because I’m sleep deprived and punch-drunk, I actually tried to sweetly tell my infant that in order to make his milk, I probably had to eat at some point. While I sat him on my lap and fed him,with my own lasagna lunch cooling on the counter, I seriously tried to reason with my 4 week old. Um… As if he had any clue as to what I was saying, all he heard was ‘blah blah blah’ all coming from his jolly milk-truck that smells like milk and has milk and feeds him milk. In a 4-week old’s little baby mind, I am not a person, I am milk. Haha!

4. And lastly, the Chunk Report. I think I have lost almost 3 lbs since I last blogged! I’m walking every day now, since it has been unseasonably beautiful here. I’ve worked up from 20 minute strolls around the block to 45 minutes, and now I pick routes that will take me up some of the horrendously difficult hills around our neighborhood.

Sample menu of what I’ve been eating:

Breakfast: whole egg with a few extra whites, 2 lean turkey breakfast sausages (I had to put the Morning Star Veggie Patties on an indefinite hiatus, they are now almost four bucks for a box of six dinky sausages, hellll no) and a fat-free yogurt. Or, if I’m running around like I crazy person, I have a Zone Bar for breaky.

Lunch: veggies and fruit and a Weight Watchers frozen meal or maybe a tuna fish or turkey sandwich on whole-wheat.

Snack: peanut butter on a couple Ritz crackers and a apple.

Dinner: a romaine/spinach salad and one serving of whatever I’ve made for DH. Lately its been a lot of baked chicken or whole wheat pasta with canned marinara sauce, because I don’t have the time to do things like make lasagna and stuff anymore. I’ve also done the whole hamburger helper thing for dinner, which is really kinda salty, but not that bad calorie-wise as long as I just stick to a measured portion.

Dessert: A sugar-free fudgesicle and a half-cup of pinapple… or I’ve been making sugar-free Jell-O pudding topped with fat free Cool-Whip.

That’s about it for now! Mr. Squeakers is asleep… so it is time to go clean my bathrooms and try to take a much-needed shower!

Oh, awesome and clever Magzilla at Let’s Craft a Baby ( http://magzilla25.wordpress.com/ ) has tagged me back for the award I gave her, and she asked for Mr. Squeakers photos in return! Thank you hon, and I am more than happy to oblige!

censored! haha

jabba? is that you?/maslow’s handy dandy triangle of sleep deprivation fun.

Now that I have ceremoniously given birth and am once again the sole inhabitant of my body, I have come to terms with the jarring disappointment that I was NOT carrying a 50 lb. Mr. Squeakers, and am going to be wearing not-so-randy granny panties for awhile. I think I mentioned this before, but I can’t even pull my size medium Vicky Secret’s lacy bits over my child-bearing hips right now. Considering the fact that I was so ill during my pregnancy, it is insane that I managed to gain so much, but I’ve already been over why that is the case… Eating disorders ruined my metabolism, so now I can eat a banana and gain five pounds. Oh JOY.

I’ve been doing well on avoiding crap (as in junk food, not CRAP crap, because I get crapped on every day now) and exercising, and am losing weight steadily. It has only been 3 and 1/2 weeks, so I’m not lifting weights or jogging yet, but I have been bundling up Mr. Squeakers and taking him on 25-40 minute stroller walks almost every day. I’ve been keeping track of my nutrition on fitday.com, which is a wonderful and free site. It helps me keep track of what I’m shoving into my mouth between bouts of drowsy nursing and frantic laundering of clothing that I’ve dug out from under ‘Mount Baby Clothing Covered In Pee Pee Poop Vomit’.

While I am currently working on my chubby problem, I’m not really making any progress towards trying to get the rest of my life back into shape. This is mostly because I’m way too tired to give a crap about my chewed fingernails or unorganized junk drawer or whatever. I’m sorta in a strange baby-survival mode. To anyone familiar with Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, this isn’t all that surprising. Basically, his belief was that we can only attain certain degrees of fulfillment, achievement and whatnot if the most basic of human needs are met. TA-DA:

I guess my point is that I’ll be able to concentrate on getting my shit together and getting organized and into a new ‘normal’ when I’m getting some sleep and even taking care of basic hygiene again.

The good news is that Mr. Scotty Squeakers is doing great! He has been kinda fussy lately, but I think he is crabby because he always seems to have bad gas. He grunts and cries until I manage to get him to burp, or until he farts, and then he calms down. He is still doing great at nursing, and is eating all the time. He loves to sleep on DH, and they look so much alike, that it is like DH got his own little Mini-Me! Ha ha!

fashion plate no more.

We’ve already started initiating ‘tummy time’ for Scotty, which he likes (as you could surmise from his expression in the above photo) about as much as I would enjoy partaking in some sort of newly introduced physical challenge while family members hover inches above my head and giggle while taking pictures of me.

He is doing wonderfully. He will be 3 weeks old tomorrow, but like his pediatrician said, he looks like a two month old! He is getting bigger and bigger by the day. He just cracks me up. He grunts, snorts and makes these really whiny happy baby noises while he eats. His face is so expressive, and he sometimes furrows his brow and gives me the stink eye:

what chu' talkin bout willis?

I got vaccinated for H1N1 today, finally. I had to wear my sweatpants to the base hospital, because my pre-pregnancy jeans are still laughably wayyy too small, but then again my maternity jeans are now baggy on my ass and I have to hike them up… and then I just look like a huge douchebag wearing mom jeans. OH MY SHIT. I just realized… I am a MOM. I could technically wear mom jeans, and it wouldn’t be all that odd, seeing as I am a MOM. Anyways, here I am sitting in the immunization clinic wearing a Guinness t-shirt that has a hole in the armpit (because it is one of three shirts that I currently own that I can pull down over my massive mammaries), gray sweatpants and fake Payless Uggs, because lets face it, they are ugly as crap but comfortable. I felt like the biggest scrub, but I guess I can worry about my clothing later on, when I can wear normal clothes again and not have to worry about trying to mash my leaking boobs into a normal and publicly acceptable wardrobe.

Now that I’m vaccinated, maybe now I can relax and venture out of my house.

Thank youuu to http://katery.wordpress.com/ for the awards! I’ve never received a blog award, so I am pretty stoked! I will do one award on this post, and one later on this week.

Here are the rules:
1. You can only use one word!
2. Pass this along to 6 of your favorite bloggers.
3. Alert them that you have given them this award!
4. Have Fun!

The Survey
1. Where is your cell phone? floor
2. Your hair? long
3. Your mother? beautiful
4. Your father? charismatic
5. Your favorite food? lasagna
6. Your dream last night? driving
7. Your favorite drink? beer
8. Your dream/goal? novel
9. What room are you in? living
10. Your hobby? reading
11. Your fear? apathy
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? here
13. Where were you last night? home
14. Something that you aren’t? insipid
15. Muffins? homemade
16. Wish list item? audi
17. Where did you grow up? everywhere
18. Last thing you did? nursed
19. What are you wearing? pajamas
20. Your TV? huge
21. Your pets? Frankitty
22. Friends? treasured
23. Your life? developing
24. Your mood? happy
25. Missing someone? yes
26. Vehicle? jeep
27. Something you’re not wearing? socks
28. Your favorite store? victoria’s secret
29. Your favorite color? black
30. When was the last time you laughed? today
31. Last time you cried? Friday
32. Your best friend? loyal
33. One place that I go to over and over? bathroom
34. One person who e-mails me regularly? Sara
35. Favorite place to eat? La Mesa

I would give you this award K, but you’ve already filled it out, so consider yourself acknowledged!!

I’m giving this to grindchopblend, randomlymikey, sarah’s anger managment, silence and noise, magzilla, zimchic, beautiful glimpses… and thats seven, but oh well. Their links are on my blogroll, check them out!!!

meals on heels/DH saves the day (and night)

Meals on heels! Haha, that is what my husband has taken to calling me lately. I nurse about 20 hours a day. Or at least it feels like that!

First, baby update…

Scotty is humongo. He is almost 11 lbs already, is in the 90th percentile for weight, 85th for height. I baked a big ol’ baby. It might have something to do with the fact that he came out late, too. Plus, he enjoys eating, like his mom. Har har. Oh, DH scared the shit out of me yesterday by announcing that he has relatives that topped 7 feet! WHAA? I’m occupied with images of a 5 foot toddler running around my house…

He hasn’t been sleeping at night, because he prefers to doze during the day. This sent me into a very fuzzy, nutty state for a few days. I think I got 2 hours of sleep each night for about four days, and wasn’t able to nap during the day for some reason. I felt so shitty, and was struck with some pretty intense migraine headaches. DH is the best. He said something along the lines of “Sleep deprivation does not become you”, so I pumped a lot yesterday and filled up a bunch of Avent bottles. At 11:30 p.m., I crawled upstairs by myself and collapsed into bed. What followed was beyond amazing… Sleep. Oh. Dear. God. Sleep! REAL SLEEP! I crashed out for the most beautiful nine hours of sleep in my entire life, while DH stayed downstairs with Scott. I woke up this morning feeling like a new person. My agitation, anxiety and wrenching fatigue were gone. Wonderful! I will never take sleep for granted again. It boggles my mind how simple it is, that we must recharge our bodies at night or else everything else falls apart.

And in other news, I’ve lost 32 lbs! Holy shite!? I am pretty much doing the Weight Watchers nursing mother plan right now. And I ate chocolate cake, lasagna and one treasured, wonderful Shiner Bock beer on Sunday, and still have lost 3 lbs since then. Its sorta crazy, considering I’m still eating a lot, and considering I must be eating sufficiently if my breastfed baby went from a 8 lb 15 oz birth weight to a hefty 10 lb 6 oz by his 2 week apt. One thing that hasn’t shrunk is my boobs… They are beyond ridiculously humongous. I can’t even pull my t-shirts over them anymore.

I sorta feel like I’m living my own version of that movie, Groundhog Day. Every day is sorta the same. Except, some days I get barfed/peed on more than others. Speaking of baby wee, thank you so much to my lovely friend K http://katery.wordpress.com/ for her useful, clever and cute gift that is helping out immensely with the whole tinkle problem! I used it for his last changing, and stayed dry! YAY!!! It is called “Wee Block”. I can’t stop cracking up over the dog lifting his leg on a fire hydrant.

More to come later, but Scotty is in my husband’s arms, rooting around for one of his many nighttime snacks.

mr. squeakers

Again, a very abbreviated post.

Scotty has been very fussy lately. I think something I’m eating is bothering him. Either that, or breast-fed babies toot all the time. You know it’s bad when you have to look over at your husband and ask if the latest hearty flatulence came from him or your one-week old. That is how loud his tooting has gotten. It all sorta started a few days ago, and he hasn’t really slept much for the last two nights. Poor bebe. He just lays in his bassinet, farting, snorting and squeaking. Yes, you read that correctly. He snorts. Mostly when he gets really mad that I’m deigning to change his poopy diaper before he gets to nurse. He pushes his little fists up by his face and snorts like a pig.

I think I got 3 hours (broken up) of sleep last night, and the night before that maybe 2. I’m hanging in there, but today I did try to get onto the military base with my bank card. The gate guard just stared at me, then said, “Ma’am, your military ID please.” DERRRRR! I felt so dumb. I told him I was sleep deprived from my newborn baby and he just started cracking up. I’m sure when I drove off he went back into the gate hut to get on his walkie and tell all the other security guys about the dumbass that tried to gain access to a military installation with a USAA card.

Anyways, I’m not eating anything funky, so I can’t figure it out. I’ve already started eating very healthy. No fried food, no candy or crap. Lots of lean protein, whole grains, apples, yogurt… I’m keeping a diary of everything I’m eating. So, I can’t figure it out, but maybe he is just having a… farty/fussy phase.

DH and I are eagerly awaiting the latest Nip/Tuck DVD set in the mail. Its been totally crappy here lately, so that doesn’t leave any opportunity to walk around and get some fresh air. I did steal away for a few minutes yesterday to go to the Shopette (the little convenience store inside of base housing) to buy a Sprite Zero, and it felt really weird, like I had escaped, and that any moment someone was going to turn me in to the ‘Bad Mom’ cops for being out and leaving my little piggie at home. It has been horribly rainy and gross and it smells like soggy worms outside.

Scotty is up from his approximately ten minute nap and is upset, so I gotta go.

time is already flying.

at the doctor's office, clothes off and still passed out!

This picture was taken at the pediatrician’s office, and I had to share it, because it cracked me up that the baby had his heel pricked, was naked and getting examined, and he still could barely keep his eyes open! This was the day after his first night home.

I can’t believe it has been almost a week since Scott was born! My updates suck right now, because by the time I find the time to get on here, I lose any effort to be witty or descriptive, and everything just comes out in a big ol’ ‘blah’ of information. When Scotty goes down for a nap after he nurses, then I get the chance to quickly blog or return phone calls or tidy up the kitchen. I tend to hurry when I’m on here now, and creatively speaking, it shows. No funny doctored pictures or whatnot.

The good news is, I managed to be blessed with an easy baby (KNOCKING FOR DEAR LIFE ON WOOD). He had a little jaundice, but the tests showed that it wasn’t a high level. I’m nursing him a lot (sometimes it seems like only an hour or so goes by without having him on my lap on top of his Boppy pillow), because that helps the Bili levels fall. I also put him in front of an open window shade. He is doing wonderful right now, and his skin is looking more pink every day. Also, his eyes are starting to turn really blue!

Baby Scott sleeps pretty well! Sometimes he gets up at 1:30 a.m. to nurse and decides he wants seconds at 2:15. Then poops at 3:30. Then gets hungry again at a quarter to 5. And then there are nights where he sleeps from 12:30 a.m. to almost 4 a.m., which is a GREAT chunk of time, and really allows me to feel refreshed. Last night he only got up 3 times. Granted one of those times he was up nursing and pooping for two hours, but I managed to log an impressive SIX HOURS (WOOHOO!) of sleep broken up from 1-4 a.m. and then from 7:30-10:30 a.m. It was awesome! I really don’t feel overwhelmed right now, or overly tired. Scotty only cries when his pants are being changed or when he wants to eat. Otherwise, he just calmly looks around and rests in our arms. I’m getting used to dodging weewee streams (holy cow, my wall and foot stool got quite the shower this morning), and really getting the hang of taking care of a newborn, something I had NO experience doing. I had barely even held a baby before I pushed him out!

I think the most surprising thing I’ve come to realize is how much I enjoy nursing him! It has thankfully come pretty easy to both of us, and the visit from the VNA lactation lady really gave me some good pointers on latching and positioning. It isn’t just a ‘feeding’ thing, it is also something that soothes him when he is worked up after getting his diaper changed, and makes me feel accomplished, like I’m really nurturing him.

I’m off to nap, I will hopefully be able to read blogs tonight or tommorow, hope everyone is doing awesome and thank you for the sweet comments! It is so nice to have support! I’ll get back to everyone soon!

baby Scott’s birth story (the abridged version).

Our baby, Matthew Scott. (We’re calling him Scott…)

our little night owl, Scott

Just a quick update, I’ve been very busy with baby and haven’t read blogs or been able to really comment back or post. I hope all my blog friends are doing well!

Being a Mommy is the best thing I’ve ever experienced, hands down.
The labor, well, it sucked, because I went through the entire labor process with no epidural relief until an hour before the baby was born. Not for lack of trying.
I was induced on Tuesday morning. I got checked in, started the Pitocin at 7:30 a.m., and had my water broke at about 8:30.
At 11:00, I asked for the epidural, because I was getting pretty uncomfortable.
It didn’t numb my legs or thighs like they said it would, or even make them tingle. It dulled my contractions for about twenty minutes. I started feeling really weird, dizzy and hot. My blood pressure dipped dangerously low (all I remember was the top number, the systolic number, was in the 70’s!!!!) and I passed out. They gave me epinepherine to raise my BP, and I started feeling better.
At noon, the epidural completely wore off. As in, gone. No pain relief, no numbing, nothing.
I got another epidural, because they thought it might have slipped the spinal space. It didn’t work at all. I wasn’t progressing much cervix-wise, even though my pitocin was at the highest drip (20 units) they could give me without calling my doctor. I was only 3 centimeters, but was having horrendous contractions. I don’t think I’m a wuss, as far as pain, but I was crying. The anesthesiologist could not figure out why the epidurals were not working for me. They said I might be metabolizing the medicine differently than other people. They gave me a pain reliever via my IV line, but it didn’t really do much except make me feel high and funky. I felt like I was going to swallow my tongue, and it made me panicky. I was only dilated to 4 after about 9-10 hours of labor. The baby’s heart rate kept dipping into the low 90s with every contraction, so I was rolled onto my sides to take pressure off the baby’s cord. I had to stay on my left side with an oxygen mask on to keep the baby happy. I was trying to breathe through the contractions, but it was pretty rough and I even started thinking, “Holy shit, I can’t do this…” Finally, the fourth time that the anesthesiology department came into my room, they tried a different space. About twenty minutes later, I was numb and happy! I got my cervical check, and I had gone from about 4 to an 8! Then, about a half hour later, I kept feeling like I needed to… go poo. Sorry, but thats what it felt like. They checked me, and I was at 10 and ready to push. While the doctor got ready to leave his house, he told the nurses to have me practice pushing. I pushed twice, and the baby’s head was crowning! The nurses said I was too good of a pusher. They made me lay on my side, turned off my pitocin and instructed me to take shallow breaths (the ‘hee-hee-hee’ hyperventilating noises) during contractions. The doctor showed up within 20 minutes. I was trying so hard not to push, because it felt like the baby was about to fly out of me. After everything was set up, I pushed the baby out with about 3 pushes within the span of one contraction. It was so quick. Scott’s cord was wrapped around his neck when he came out and he is a large baby (an ounce shy of being 9 lbs), so the doctor gave me an episiotomy to make room for him. When they put him on my chest… well, it was the best feeling in the world. Love. He had a major cone-head too, which scared DH at first. Ha ha… I don’t think he realized that lots of babies get cone-head during the birthing process.

I’ve been nursing, and that is going well. He is very good at latching on, and a nurse from the Visiting Nurse Association came to the house yesterday to give me some pointers on positions and techniques. I didn’t think I wanted help with stuff like that, but it was really informative and helpful. I’m pretty damn sleep deprived (I got 45 minutes of sleep within a 2 day period, not joking. Between the adrenaline and just caring for him, it is really hard to catch any Z’s.), but I’m hangin’ in there. I know that it won’t be like this forever.

More later! Now, I need to sleep since Scott is comfy and sleeping in his swing.