Pumping At Midnight

Ah, the joys of mommyhood...or, should I say, the joys of bringing home a newborn that you quickly forget and suddenly remember.

It is two a.m., and my little guy is still wondrously slumbering. Don't get me wrong, this is an entirely welcome event. Our first slept through the night after only a few days, so I was prepared for this one not to. I knew I was lucky with little man, and perhaps wouldn't be this time around.

Since I'm breastfeeding, I am totally prepared to blindly reach over and scoop out the little bundle and get our smack on. Even with a two year old cuddled up at my side. (A queen sized bed is simply not big enough, I've discovered. Thank goodness our golden was never allowed on the furniture. Plus, she has a bed all to herself.)

But, tonight, I was reminded of another tidbit I'd conveniently forgotten. The leaky boob...

I wasn't awakened by the hungry little noises of my newborn, but the slightly overflowing breastmilk my new son was sleeping through. So here I am, pumping away, snuggled under a blanket.

Ah, the nighttime joys of mommyhood. I'm pretty sure when I go to climb back into bed, someone will wake up, all ready for a snack...

posted from Bloggeroid

Getting Steamed

When I made the decision to become a part time, one day a week, employee at my 12+ year job, I became worried over the whole money issue.
Not only did I not want to let it come between my husband and I (who rarely, if ever have a major disagreement other than I believe in actually changing light bulbs once they burn out), but I was concerned how our lives would change.
So, being the money saver that I already was (I love my Coach bags, all on sale), but not a crazy couponer-I still can't figure out how they do it!!!!- i investigated.  Knowledge is power.
Baby food and formula is insanely expensive!  Holy moly, not only would I have a new mouth to cloth and diaper (not to mention the toys, lotions, and baby wipes!)...his carbon foot print would start early with all those jars and containers.
So, along with breastfeeding (if I hear breast is best one more time, I may just scream.  Or cry.) I decided to make my own baby food.
Happily, I have to say not only is it kind of empowering (I love to cook, and steaming his food makes me feel very good and so mommy!!!) to know what exactly he's eating, but it's so incredibly, dare i say, cheap!
And easy.
I didn't waste any money (duh!) on a book, but started with an article in a baby magazine that I receive as a free subscription.
Simple....apples, cut into chunks, steam until soft, puree (my processor now has other things to do other than pesto!), place into ice cube trays, freeze. 
This recipe works for just about anything...and of course I logged onto other websites just to make sure.
And now, my freezer has a full top drawer for only $15 for almost a month of baby food.
Not sure if he likes the green beans, though.  Peas and apples?  Oh yeah! 
The rule?  Don't be afraid to try new things.  Sweet potato fries, fresh out of the oven?  Pureed for baby boy, yummy for mommy and daddy!
Now, if only he would stop eyeing my ice cream...

The "B" and Complete Strangers

It wasn't the labor, the pain, or even the pounds that scared me the most about being pregnant. (Or even the fact that I had to give up my most beloved beverage...I mean, who can function without their steaming cup of yummy caffeine? Horror of horrors!)

Every single how-to-be-pregnant book (and I had two!) warned of that one crazy phenomena. You know the one. Where complete and absolute strangers walk up to you and....TOUCH YOUR BELLY!!

I had been dreading this from the day I saw that little plus sign. No matter how well intentioned a complete stranger may be, its creepy. Beyond the fact that they are a COMPLETE STRANGER is the one little thing. Literally. My baby. I wasn't sure I wanted someone I didn't know getting between the bond I was sure was forming. This was my time. And unless I wanted you in on it, please, I thought, don't let anyone just walk right on up and lay one on me.

I needn't had worried.

Because there was something far worse looming on the horizon.

Complete and total strangers, once they learned of the little jellybean and his impending arrival, asked me (did I mention they were complete strangers?) if I planned on breastfeeding.

SERIOUSLY?

The craziest part of that was I didn't know. At first, I was vehemently anit-breastfeeding. I didn't want to smother my baby, or be attached to him twenty four hours a day. Plus, I didn't really view that part of me as what they were designed for. I mean, they look great in a bra and have given me some really interesting shopping trips. Among other things.

The first time I had this particular question thrown at my newly announced pregnant self, I was dumb founded. When I stammered the whole I hadn't decided yet, I received the weirdest lecture ever as a grown person. (To add to the awkwardness, it happened at work. And I work at a well known lingerie store. Being used to awkward situations, and believe me there have been plenty, I was thrown.) Politely, I stood there, just staring at this woman who probably meant well but was seriously freaking me out! after she was done I politely smiled and helped her, then passed her along to pay for her purchases.

And hoped this was the last time I would have to endure this uncomfortable conversation.

Boy, was I wrong wrong.

The dreaded event would occur at least three times a week through out my pregnancy, mostly while I was work. By the this time I learned once again to plaster that pleasant smile on my face and say I hadn't decided yet and excuse myself. (Hey, I was pregarooni, I could fake morning sickness. Which I had none. Or scamper off to help another customer.)

Breastfeeding is an incredibly personal decision. One that I wasn't ready to share with just anyone, so I just couldn't understand where these complete strangers were coming from.

I had already decided to take a breastfeeding class to gather as much info as I could before the baby came. One thing I had decided early in my pregnancy was that I was going to do my best to roll with things and not define anything. That way, if something didn't go as planned, no problem.

Needless to say, the benefits outweighed my earlier assumptions.

But that still doesn't make those encounters any easier. At least now, I can look back and laugh. Maybe I should have asked them to touch my belly instead...