NSC Strikes Back

Its really bad that I haven't been on here in over a month.

Which means.

My experiment in blogging is over. I know, if theres one person who still reads this thing, you are SOOO disappointed you won't be reading my witty rants any more. However, I have a full time job which now requires my attention, and a baby who thinks my only mission in life is to entertain her. (Seriously...I am in SO much trouble when this kid becomes mobile...)

So, after long thoughts, I have decided to officially cease writing here. Of course, as soon as I shut down will be when I have the most awesomest ideas to spill here. But, I will refrain.

Thank you for being my happy internet friends, and paying attention to my scatterbrained thoughts as long as you have. I'll still be following my favs, so you may see me pop in on the comments every once in awhile. Feel free to email!

Love always,

NSC

So sorry I haven't posted in a little while. The kid had/has RSV.

That was fun. Two and a half days off work, sitting at home with a fevered infant, listening to that croupy cough (it haunts my dreams) and doing nothing besides holding my poor baby for days on end.

Now she's better, and we are on to bigger things.

Things, like, sleeping in her own bed.

Now, when we were dealing with colic baby, it became easy to let her sleep with us. Nights that I spent calming down a crying wailing banshee were getting difficult, and she would just wake up if I set her down in her crib. And then another 40 minutes of banshee. SOOO much easier to snuggle in mommys bed.

And now its a habit. One I admit, I have not been too keen on breaking. Mostly because of convenience in night feedings, but also because I dread the thought of no sleep again. Because it takes work to get a baby to calm down, and I am not a fan of the cry it out method. Until she hits 6 months old. But for now, I won't let her do that.

Typical night:

8:30PM

Lay her down after nursing. She is so peaceful, like a little limp doll.

1AM

Her: (kick kick kick)

(Whimper)

(Kick kick kick PUNCH kick kick kick)

Me: Groggily turn light on, struggle to sit up without crushing her, and then nurse while praying I don't drop her off the side of the bed as I doze off. Somehow she manages to end up with her nuk in her mouth, back in the center of the bed. Light stays on.

3AM

Her: (kick kick kick)

(Whimper)

(Kick kick kick PUNCH kick kick kick)

(Whimper Whimper Whimper)

(Kick kick kick PUNCH kick kick kick)

(Kick kick kick PUNCH kick kick kick)

Me: Wonder why light is still on. Attempt to nurse lying down. Somehow light turns off. Baby falls alseep. Maybe was never awake in the first place?

4:30 AM

Her:

(kick kick kick)

(Whimper)

(Kick kick kick PUNCH kick kick kick)

(Whimper Whimper Whimper)

(Kick kick kick PUNCH kick kick kick)

Me:

This is getting old.

I thought babies started teething at 5-6 months.

Not three months old. Five to six months.

I guess I have an early bloomer.

A few weeks ago, she started sucking her fingers. Being more demanding in general. But really, when she wouldn't nap or stop crying all weekend, red cheeks, hot forehead with no fever, chewing on everything including me...you would think that would be a tip-off?

Oh no. I kept thinking, no way. Must be something else.

Daycare puts orajel on her. Shes back to normal.

Way to go me.

Speaking of daycare, a week ago on valentines day, I decided to send baby off with little valentine cards for the kids in her daycare. They are all different ages, so I thought it would be cute. Thats all, just the cheap little cards with pictures of cats and dogs and "You're Puuurrfect Valentine" written on them with the kids names.

She comes home with:

A book

A rattle

Four of the aforementioned cards

Two boxes of the candy hearts

A pencil

A tootsie roll sucker

I thought I was going a little overboard having a baby give out valentines day cards. Apparently, that makes me stingy. All the other parents are sending little Bobby and Jane to daycare with big bags of junk to hand out, and I threw all the cards in one envelope and handed it to the care worker.

Can we say, clueless? Next year I'm showing up with ponies for all the kids. Take that, super moms. Try one-upping THAT.

Oh, and thank GOD for generic baby tylenol. There had to be something left on the shelves for my miserable sanity baby.

Leaving my kid at daycare, by far, was the hardest thing I've ever done. I cried for an hour. And that was just the test run to work, not even the real deal. I picked her up an hour after I stopped crying.

And then next day, I was damp, but not sobbing when I dropped her off again.

The tears were gone the third day. Work was busy, I had many many things to get caught up on, and it was a welcome distraction from thinking about how much I wanted to be at home with my kid.

But I don't have the luxury of that option. Like it or not, we cannot survive without my income. Even with the massive daycare payment. So, I suck it up. And three weeks in, I am doing a DAMN good job of keeping us fed and clothed. I don't have time for anything else, and I am usually sleeping by 9 pm. But we are fed, and our clothes are clean. For now.

Having the most amazing daycare provider really helps. I don't doubt for one minute my girl is being taken care of by someone who loves her, and dotes on her. The other kids love her. And my baby is happy to see her in the mornings. Which makes me feel like crap, because I want her to be missing me every second of the day, but it shows that my baby likes being there. And I think with all the activity and interaction she gets with the other kids, she's a happier baby.

Plus, I think of how I get to skip the awkward grocery store conversation about race. My kid is around lots of kids of different races and while they are all probably from an upper middle class background (we're the white trash family there) she at least will not think twice about anyone who looks differently than she does. I can't express how thrilled I am about that.

I get to have my brain working again. I'm connected to the outside world again in a way I wasn't when I was on maternity leave. I can relate to political conversations again (although I intend to avoid them, as they usually lead to broken friendships) and I know what's going on in the news. I can tell you what the weather will be like tomorrow. And I have the sense of purpose that things around here won't get done if I'm not here. Which is nice, but sucked to come back to after two months.

My house doesn't get as dirty when I'm not there, and I'm not running a million loads of dishes every day. Or doing laundry every day. Now its every other day. That has to count towards bringing our insane electrical and water bills down. Plus I'm not going through paper towels as frequently. Or toilet paper. I'm saving money!

I have to post all the good things about being a working mom, because I can't forget. I think about my baby being around someone else more than me in waking hours, and it hurts like nothing I've ever felt. But I think we are better off for it. Being a stay at home mom wasn't something I wanted to do, until I had a kid. And then I wanted it. But I think if I had stayed at home, even though it is an unselfish, amazing thing, I would have cut myself off from the outside world. If I am not social enough, I become antisocial and that is a dangerous thing to one's mental stability, not to mention sobriety.

So, cheers to being one of many working moms!

Every spring I get all excited about a garden. Not the kind you pluck fresh vegetables from, but the kind that sits outside the house and looks pretty to cars driving by. And hopefully out does the neighbors. (The neighbor who is a stay at home mom who works out every day and looked like her normal skinny self a day after giving birth to her last child. Yes, I hate you.)

And so this last spring, I enlisted my sisters to help me move plants around, and throw down some mulch so I wouldn't have to weed since I was all pregnant and tired.

And it looked awesome until two days later when the hostas got all out of control and slugs ate the leaves and weeds grew along the house line where the mulch ended. And I was lazy, and said f it.

THIS year, I want to make an eating garden. But, knowing my laziness, am not sure it would get very well taken care of. There is a photo floating around somewhere, of my sixth grade self, sitting in the three foot tall weeds of the garden I had planted that year. Don't think I weeded it once. But, on my new restricted diet, I am eating more veggies, and it might be nice to not pay for them to go bad in the fridge after eating one bite.

Again, scared to death I'm going to kill the plants, or not recognize them and yank them out when I do get around to weeding.

Oh, and chickens. I think I want to have chickens. We go through alot of eggs.

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah. Have I mentioned I suck at following through on things? So maybe I'll just go small. Except I want to plant corn, and that is not small. Mmmm corn...

I have developed a mild obsession with the food network. I think it started when I eliminated all my favorite foods in favor of a happy baby.

Have you ever noticed how all the chefs have orgasms when trying their food at the end of the show? Makes you REALLY want to try cooking that.

This is exactly how I feel when I eat cake too.

Anyways I've decided I'm a Paula Deen fan. Nevermind that half her foods, even I'M too scared to cook, and I love me some fatty desserts. But now, there is a new show, starring her son that takes her recipes and remakes them into healthier versions. Example, instead of using Krispy Kremes in her bread pudding, he uses whole-wheat donuts instead.

So, I went on their website, and found a delicious looking recipe for sweet and sour meatballs. I've been looking forward to making it ALL week. Bought special ingredients like fresh ginger and shallots, which never make appearances in my kitchen. Was SO excited to make them, planned all week to make them last night.

And then a migraine struck.

I decided to be a rock star, and make them anyway. Had just finished making the meatballs and was going to throw them in the pan when I almost passed out. (Sidenote, I get really severe migraines) So DH told me to go lay down, and he would finish cooking.

DH is not a fancy eater. He took one look at what I was doing, and told me that was not going to fly.

Half an hour later, I woke up to be served hamburger patties with white rice. No sweet and sour sauce. I don't think the ginger or shallots made it into the pan with the meat. He made sure to tell me he did not like the spices I used in the meat.

I thought it tasted awesome. I am so going to try making it again, but probably on a night when he won't be home. And with the sauce this time.

Thank you Bobby Deen. And thank you DH, for being a good man and cooking and watching baby girl so I could rest. What a peach.

Everyone knows boobs are for babies. Whether women choose to use them for that purpose, that is what nature intended for a food source. However, many women know nothing about breastfeeding when they deliver their babies. Most people in America grow up seeing babies fed formula, and are forced to rely on "experts" for advice if they choose to use their breasts as intended.

I had a breastfeeding mom. I knew how it worked. I had no trouble getting my baby to latch at the hospital, knew several different feeding positions. My milk came in right away.

What I didn't know anything about was pumping.

So when the lactation consultant came to visit us on our last day at the hospital, and I was soaked to the bone in my newly arrived baby food, I listened to her as she told me to wait at least two weeks before pumping. "Let the baby regulate your supply first" she says. Well, who wouldn't listen to the expert? So, I let myself get regulated, and went from sopping wet shirts and bras to nice and clean and dry in a weeks time.

Two weeks later, I decided it was time to try the pump.

And nothing came out.

It took me a full month to get one feedings worth of milk. And the panic set in, how am I going to feed my kid when daycare starts? I have put so much time and energy into bf'ing, gave up my favorite foods, been the solo night attendant the whole time, and I am NOT going to give up yet.

So I call the La Leche League. They tell me herbal supplements. So I choke down 9 pills of Blessed Thistle (Which is only available online) and 9 pills of Fenugreek a day. I pump between feedings. I let my kid use me as a pacifier. I took a "nursing vacation" and spent the whole day in bed with my kid. I drink all the water I can wihtout throwing up. I know how to let my milk down, and can usually get it to let down twice in a pumping. It is not enough.

First day of daycare, I show up with what I though was one days supply, enough to get my kid through. I figure, I will pump at work instead of feeding her, and then just deliver a fresh days supply daily.

My kid ran out of food the FIRST DAY.

So now I am letting daycare give her formula, while trying to run around and pump three times a day at work. IF I'm lucky, I can get 9 ounces a day. Most days I produce about a total of 7 ounces from  3 pumpings. And I blame that dumb consultant. If I had pumped right away, I would not be having this problem.

You would think, with having large breasts, milk supply wouldn't be an issue...

And that isn't even all of the issues I have. But that is all I can handle venting for now. Sigh. I am meeting a woman from the Health Department this week in hopes there are other answers out there. A rainbow. Or a chupacabra. Some mythical perfect answer that will make it all okay, and my baby not hungry anymore.

So I was hoping to blog like a month ago. But then the internet stopped working. And then the cable guy screwed up the computer because I let him on it, and took DH two weeks to undo his mess.

And then I went back to work.

And so, I thought, once all this mess was cleared up that I would have a chance to blog about all that nonsense.

But something more important happened.

I have been cut off from the real world for so long, that it took an internet blackout for me to find out about SOPA. Watch the video, and feel the libertarian rage flow through. And then email your congresspeople and tell them to back the f off and mind their own business.

So, for the last three to four weeks, I have been battling a fussy baby. And when I say fussy, I mean screaming. Like kill your soul screaming. Completely inconsolable. And by that, I mean me, when shes screaming.

I've eliminated garlic and red sauce. Which were the two things I cooked with the most pre baby. Then chocolate...which made Christmas baking suck. No more chocolate crinkles? MIGHT AS WELL PACK UP THE TREE, CHRISTMAS ISN'T HERE ANYMORE. And these things helped....briefly.

Took her to the doctor. Might be acid reflux, she is pojectile vomiting through the nose. Reflux meds help the vomiting, not the fussiness soul rendering screaming. Took her to the doctor again. "are you breastfeeding? You need to eliminate dairy. Oh, and here are some drops for gas."

I can see where this is going. I read MODG. My aunt and cousins have celiacs disease. Screw eliminating dairy, I might as well go wheat free now. Yay me.

At least if I go gluten free, I'll lose some more weight. Now I just have to convince DH not to put her on formula. While convenient, I lose my conviction to not eat the foods I love, as well as my quick-solution weight loss plan. Not to mention the price..oh the horror. I'm already half convinced to put her in cloth diapers, just because I'm a cheap ass.

So there you have it. The real reason I haven't been blogging much lately.

Merry Christmas!

I don't know where my time goes...it just suddenly vanishes. One day I wake up, and my kid is 5 weeks old. How did that happen? Ok, dumb question, BUT STILL. Lord only knows what will happen when I go back to work. At least I'll be posting more blogs. Maybe?

On one hand, I'm skeered to go back. I don't even know who my boss is anymore. Literally. My boss left to take an awesome new job in another state, and they haven't hired anyone to replace her yet. I'm reporting to one person for payroll, and another for my actual duties temporarily. And that peron wants to change everything about how I do my job. I don't know what I'm going back to.

On the other hand...I'll be aware of current events again. Lord knows I love having a conversationb about more than how many diapers my kid goes throough each day. (hint, its ALOT) That will be nice. But I'll miss my lil girl. And someone else will be raising her most of the time. And that person costs ALOT of money. Not enough for me to stay home though.

So, as I hurriedly type this before the kidlet and DH wake up ffrom their respective naps, I leave you with this: I can fit into my prepregnancy jeans again. Granted, they are tight, and I have a muffin top. BUT STILL!

BOOYA!