Saturday, July 31, 2010

Mother's Intuition

I was TOTALLY wrong about Marlo's size. She is 12 pounds and two ounces. Oh yeah, and also 24 inches.

What do you know, it turns out your mother IS always right.

Everything checked out all fine and dandy at her appointment. She's developing on or ahead of schedule. She's in about the 80th percentile for weight and 95th for length. Her head is still in the 50th, I guess she's destined to have a little pin head like her mom.

She did cry a bit when she got her shots, but really, who doesn't? I think I cried the last time I got a tetanus booster. Or maybe that was after I got it when my dad slugged me in the shoulder instead of just saying "hello" like a normal person. At any rate, Marlo ended up with a dropper-ful of Tylenol and an early bedtime last night, but is otherwise no worse for wear.

Marlo, 2 months

Friday, July 30, 2010

Just for comparison's sake

Here we are at our wedding, four years almost ago. Note my non-fat face and perfectly normal sized boobs.

In which I bitch about my baby fat

It's summer and I have an infant. These are my top two excuses for not posting, in no particular order.

Marlo turned two months old on Tuesday. She has her 2 month check-up with the pediatrician later this afternoon - so I'll update you on her vitals soon. In my estimation she is about 12 pounds and 24 inches.

As for me, my weight loss has stalled a bit and that depresses me. Just in time to start losing all my hair and get really depressed, I suppose. I'm really rather vain, you see. I considered my pregnancy a success not because I gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby girl, but because I didn't get any stretch marks or varicose veins. I gained 41 pounds, and looking back at the three pictures of me pregnant in existence, I was pretty much big as a house. I'm short-waisted and small-boned, so even ten pounds around the middle gets pretty significant. As of my six week follow up with my OB, I had lost 25 pounds. Hurray, right? 25 pounds without any effort, just sitting through breastfeeding sessions eight times a day. Three weeks later, I stepped on the scale to discover I've lost...27 and a half pounds.

Now, hold on. I know what you're thinking. That's still almost a pound a week! That's still with no effort, other than breastfeeding eight times a day and not ever getting to eat because the baby won't nap! I know. It's still wonderful and can't really be considered stalling. I should be ashamed of myself. BUT the problem is that now it LOOKS like fat, and not like perfectly excusable pregnancy related weight. I'll get over myself, I promise. Feel free to slap me in the face next time you see me. My still-fat lookin' face.

And did I mention the size of my boobs? Well, lately? They're frightening. Especially if Marlo naps for a particularly long time (which does happen every once in a while - it's feast or famine with this girl) and I get a little engorged. They remind me of the death star. Especially when you see Marlo's head up against them. I am thinking about putting them on the kitchen scale to see how they are contributing to my weight retention - although since I don't have a pre-pregnancy boob weight to compare them to, it wouldn't really be very accurate. Still might be fun. Especially if I can take some SFW pictures of the process.

Here ya go, here's a picture of me with my fat face and giant boobs, eight weeks postpartum. Astute observers will note that I'm wearing the same dress I wore four weeks, um, prepartum? at my baby shower. Husband looks handsome, as usual.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Slipping on down the priorities list

Sorry, blog. I was going to update you and all - but now the weather is (finally) nice and I'm going to go  hand the baby off to Grandma and spend some time floating in her pool. You understand, don't you? Good.

I even have pictures of more vegetable matter I have consumed and everything. Maybe later.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Long time no see

When's the last time I showed you something I ate?? Been a long time, that's for sure.

That's a blurry picture of a Cobb Salad. It's the perfect meal on a hot day for a woman whose diet consists mostly of cookies. What a colorful array of nutrient filled ingredients! And not one of them an M&M.

I highly recommend the Cobb Salad. It was a bit of an ass pain to put together, but so delicious. If you want to know how to make one, I suggest google as I am far too lazy to type it all out. Busy. I meant busy.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Post - postscript

I must say that since my rantings yesterday, I feel much more gently and benevolently about the whole breastfeeding thing. I guess it was good to get it off my chest.

Geez, is it just me, or is the topic of breastfeeding just ripe with the opportunity for bad puns and stupid jokes? Try it, rewrite that last sentence in your head. It will make you want to punch yourself.

I'm working up a post on my experience with cloth diapers so far. I'll write it as soon as I get some free time from washing cloth diapers.

Monday, July 5, 2010

Breastfeeding is for suckers

Let's get one thing straight, right off the bat. I'm not quitting breastfeeding.

But I do kinda sorta tend to think that breastfeeding SUCKS BIG EGGS and I do not enjoy it one bit.

I do not enjoy breast pads. I do not enjoy nursing tops. I do not enjoy pulling my shirt over my head while a little tyrant screams bloody murder because I AM NOT DOING IT FAST ENOUGH, DAMMIT.

I do not feel bonded, or awash in maternal love. I feel slightly used, maybe violated even, and awash in breastmilk. Stinky, sticky breastmilk that leaves big cold wet spots everywhere.

Plus, my little tyrant is not such a strong swallower. She gags, she chokes, she blows milk out her nose. She makes awful screeching sounds like a baby bald eagle and then she blows cheesy breast milk curds all over me. Sometimes all over my nipple, as she doesn't bother to excuse herself and pull off before she vomits.

See, the thing no one tells you when they tell you motherhood is a full time job is that breastfeeding is its own full time job. I easily spend eight hours a day breastfeeding - which is why I have been executing covert operations with my breastpump for a while now. I've been building a freezer surplus in hopes of eventually liberating my body from the ball and chain that is this baby of mine.

The sweetest, cutest, most lovable wonderful ball and chain, I mean.

Last Friday, I decided it was Time. I pumped while the tyrant napped. I transferred the milk to a tommee tippee bottle, handed it to Husband....and suddenly, in spite of myself, I wanted that bottle back. As much as I wanted to be free, it broke my heart to hand that bottle over. My little girl was going to get her first meal from somebody else. What if she didn't need me anymore? What if all I was to her was a big dairy bar and if she could get it elsewhere, that was fine by her? SHE IS GROWING UP AND LEAVING ME!

But, tears in my eyes, I let it happen. I knew it was for the best. And what do you know, it worked!

She took the bottle like a champ. And another one Saturday. And another one Sunday. I even got to drink two and a half beers on the 4th of July! The world is my oyster. With one "relief bottle" planned per day, I can choose when to use it. It's like having the get out of jail free card. Or the free spin on Wheel of Fortune. Or whatever game analogy you like. I can use it for the 5 am feeding, or if I'm feeling spry at 5 I can wait and use it in the evening when I might feel like having a little extra beverage. Huzzah for bottles!

P.S. I must add that although she is looking at her father in this picture, she spent most of that first bottle looking over at me. I love you, too, little tyrant.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Five Weeks

Oh faithful readers (both of you), I have been remiss. It's been ages since I last posted.

It's just that it's sort of hard to prioritize your free time when there's a newborn around. Turns out.  I would have loved to post daily on whatever cute thing Marlo was doing, but instead I used my free time to brush my teeth. Or eat something more substantial than a banana or a cookie. Bananas and cookies make up about 90% of my diet these days.

But let's get to the good stuff before the Tyrant wakes up and I have to quit writing.

Marlo turned a month old on Sunday. Here is her portrait:

She had her 1-month checkup on Monday. She weighed in at nine pounds, 10.5 ounces. She has shot up from the 20th percentile at birth to the 75th. A little Pork Chop, indeed.