Motherhood Uncensored

Me Eat?

I weaned both my kids shortly after finding out I was pregnant. Aside from having to breastfeed in between migraines and pukes, the idea of tandem nursing a toddler and a newborn just wasn't something I was willing to do.

I decided that my boobs were meant to sustain one small human (and one well-behaved big one) at a time. 

I remember being visiting by a friendly lactation consultant after Drew's birth who was insistent that I allow Quinlan a little "taste" if she asked for it.

"She can have a little taste of juice from her sippy cup," I replied quite firmly. "But she's not getting anything more from me."

Fortunately, my kids never gave me a hard time when I cut them off. With Quinlan, I stuffed my sports bra full of cabbage, relinquished my daily bedtime duties to the huz and that was it. And in Drew's case, I just went away to Johnson's Camp Baby Weaning Camp. But in both cases, neither asked for boobs, grabbed in my shirt, or stared jealously at the suckling baby.

I admit that after hearing all these stories of kids unhooking their mom's bras and screaming "BOOBIES" in the middle of Target, I was surprised that neither of my exclusively breastfed kids ever asked to nurse, that is until just a few days ago when I was feeding Margot.

"Baby eat. Boob." said Drew, huddling over us and pointing at my nipple. He sat back for a minute, obviously pondering the situation, and then with big eyes and an earnest grin added, "ME EAT?"

To which I replied, "Sorry kid. You'll have to wait at least until high school for that sort of thing... And hopefully by that time, you'll sound less like a caveman."

One Month - All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go (yet)

Ridiculously adorable onesie by Lou and Lee

[thanks Auntie Rita!]

Oh the Irony

I waited an entire pregnancy to enjoy an entire bottle of beer, only to have a kid who's probably sensitive to it. Goodbye alcohol, coffee, sweet tea, and other yummies I abstained from during pregnancy. (Okay, well sort of).

I finally hit the biggest and best mall in Atlanta, except I've got all my children with me. You know you're a mom when you walk by some of your favorite stores ever (Anthropologie, Bloomingdales, my loves) and don't even really think about trying to go in.

And, I'm wide awake laying next to my soundly sleeping newborn at 3am crying at Serendipity because my entire body is sore. As in really badly sore muscles courtesy of stress and trying to do everything holding a newborn, so much so that I can't even bring my chin to my chest and I'd love for someone to just cut my hamstrings in half because I'm sure that would feel better.

Care to share your ironies today?

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

A few months before my son arrived, we finally got my daughter to fall asleep on her own - you know, without having to rock, stroke, sing, and lay next to her. Seriously, we put on a veritable Cirque du Soleil every night just to get her to close her eyes.

When Drew came home, she decided naps were for sissies.   

And now, well, she's decided to come visit my husband every morning at around 3am thanks to scary dreams, the need for a sip of water, or lately, to just say "hello."

Even with the wee one eating every few hours, I'm actually getting some sleep. However, even three to four hours in a row really doesn't cut it when you spend the entire day with a baby in a sling, chasing after two other kids. In fact, by 7:30pm I'm ready to crash. Too bad that's when my money-making "work day" actually begins.

I've asked friends, neighbors, and the internets about my past and present sleep druthers. I've read a bunch of books and searched "dear god please help me my kid won't sleep" on Google.

But on November 12, at 2pm EST, I'm going to ask a real live sleep expert all the questions that I've ever wanted answered about sleep.

You should too. Register for the webcast - it's easy because you can go about your business with your computer open and not have to sit in front of the screen.

And get your sleep questions answered too. No advice. No assvice.

Just some good solid answers. I hope.

Easy Does It.

I've always had a contentious relationship with dairy. It went from mildly irritating to gastrically tumultuous, so much so that I decided to end things and become a vegan, much to my intestines' delight. It wasn't until I got pregnant with my daughter that I was blissfully reunited with frozen yogurt and cheese.

So when my oldest came out as a fussy, sleep-fighting, oddly-pooping baby, it wasn't a far stretch for me to kick dairy to the curb for the sake of my own sanity and her rumbly little tummy. But then it was wheat, and then soy, and then the rest of the "big 8" until I finally decided to do a total elimination diet that lasted until her first birthday.

Now Margot is decidedly unfussy (for the most part), sleeps fairly well, and when she does poop it seems fine, but she's taken to puking every night around 8pm.

So after obsessing about it for the past few days, I shouldn't have been surprised when my pediatrician suggested I eliminate dairy.

"And if that doesn't work, try wheat," she added.

I hung up the phone and cried, not necessarily because I'm in love with ice cream. Or that I'll really miss bread. I've gone without cheese and I've savored the taste of rice bread. But mostly, I'm already a tad bit overwhelmed. A happy but puking baby that will require me to read food labels again, prepare different foods, and make adjustments to my life that is being held together by a very thin thread has just sent me right over the edge.

And I need to be able to drink a beer and eat an entire chocolate cake. I have three kids and a traveling husband for God sakes. Shots of organic white grape juice just will not cut it.

On the day I celebrated my release from the prison that was the elimination diet with an entire box of donuts, I vowed never to do it again. Fortunately with Drew, I figured out that most of Quinlan's reflux issues were caused by my oversupply and overactive letdown, both of which I resolved with him and had little issue with during our breastfeeding relationship.

But I'm learning that every pregnancy, every birth experience, and every child is truly different.

And apparently none of them are ever really easy.