sciatica & baby elektra

I'm down, physically and emotionally. My back's out and I've been lying around for two days. Shane's been wonderful, caring for the baby and me. Today he had to go to work, though, so his parents have her. They brought her to me a little while ago to nurse but she wasn't very interested. I miss her and feel weird about not being able to lift and carry her around, even though I know it's no indication of my mothering ability or anything. It's been a vulnerable week emotionally anyway, since Molly started to show a very insistent preference for Shane over me except for feedings and sleeping. It's so childish and ridiculous to be jealous, but of course I am. I'm sure all first time parents go through that- Shane used to annoy me being jealous of the nursing bond, but now that she's really smitten with her Daddy I understand how he felt. I'm so used to being her whole world. Well, at least when Papaw wasn't around. She's always loved him so much. He's fallen in her esteem too, and actually she prefers her Mamaw to everyone- Shane included. We went to pick her up from their house after work the other day and she cried when either one of us held her.

The loss of the mommy-obsession re-opened my working mom sadness. I had it in my head that I don't get to spend much time with her. That's an exaggeration I'm sure. I have her in my arms or at my side all evening and all night long, and then nearly constantly on weekends. It's just annoying and melancholy to "lose" her a little.

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Mom & Dad E left me "Lady in the Water" to watch on DVD when they took Molly. It's so beautiful. I'm a total sucker for a fairy tale, and I love M. Night Shyamalan. How cool is it to be named Night? Or better yet, Story, the heroine of the movie. What a beautiful name.

***

I dreamt Molly had a tiny twin sister they had found in my womb at my six week checkup. She fit in the palm of my hand. She was sickly and I grew a tiny nipple to nurse her with, but she wouldn't grow. I told Shane we needed to name her and he told me we shouldn't get attached because she probably would die. I wanted to name her Suzy anyway. There was a beautiful huge angel fish in the dream too that flopped on top of an aquarium and had to be put back in the water. That's no doubt from staring at a toy aquarium nightlight with Molly as I nursed her to sleep. We also had an ocean CD playing so the nursery was wonderfully tranquil.

saints & such

Shane'sa right- I do research too much. Right now I'm filled with crankiness at Saint Nicholas. I was researching to origins of a certain innocuous Christmas symbol, trying to form a good plan for explaining him to a young and curious Mollybird in years to come. I was hoping for some ways to align him with Solstice as well as Christmas, figuring he has nada to do with a Virgin Mama and a manger full of baby Holy Cuteness so it might be easy. I'll probably have more luck with Yule symbols and such. At any rate, I got stuck on this very informative site about the saint.

Turns out, when he was the Bishop of Myra, Nicholas attacked a temple of Artemis and crushed it to bits. Since She is second only to The Ever-Compelling and Mysterious, Dark, Yummy One Persephone in my esteem, I am sad and pouty right now. Not surprised, as many saints are lauded for such, but I'm bummed.

I'm having a religious reality check lately. Last night Mamaw & Papaw proudly showed me Molly's newest books- pop-ups about Joseph's coat, Noah's ark, and one called Jesus and the 12 Dudes Who Did. I'm very fine with them exposing Molly to their beliefs, but I'm realizing that if I don't get more involved in my church and circle, she's going to get the majority of her religious teachings from them. That's just not going to happen. It's an uncomfortable situation family-wise with Shane disdaining all organized religion, even when it's as poorly organized as my pagan friends can be...haha. So I feel a little like I'm alone in her religious/spiritual upbringing and it seems like I want to indoctrinate her. It's not that I'll be angry or upset if she would choose to enter the LDS or any other church, I just want her to have a broad education. If I were a Christian, I wouldn't feel like I was pushy if I insisted she go to my church, so why do I feel it's strange to want her to attend circle and learn about Wicca? I'm afraid UU can be a little more intellectual a path than spiritual, and I know adults who left their childhood UU faith because of this. I want her so much to follow the UU Principles and to learn the beautiful lessons of service and compassion that the congregation teaches, but I specifically want her to know about Earth traditions.

Is it confusing to a kid that we can be UU and Wiccan? Do I even classify myself as Wiccan really anymore? I don't know. I'm thinking this over too much. I'm sure I'll inuitively learn as we go what to share with her. It's just weird... religion hasn't been a terribly important part of my life (though spirituality of course is ever-present) for a while. I'm sure many new parents find themselves reassessing their devotion. The cool thing is, many of the families at the UU congregation are dealing with similar quandaries. I need to take my lazy ass to church more often. We even have a RE (religious education) class called Parents as Resident Theologians. So, I'm sure they're addressing many of my worries. Just need to get more involved.

End rant. Have a very Happy Solstice (technically this evening, but I don't know if this means today or tomorrow is the shortest day, but I'm thinking tonight's the longest night, so we'll light our special virgin holly-shaped gold candles and say prayers this evening.) Tomorrow we're baking baker's clay ornaments of suns & stars for keepsakes. Molly won't remember her first Yule but I will, and it's a good start to new traditions- I wasn't raised UU or pagan, probably obviously.

holiday meme

Holiday fun from Crunchy on the Inside:

So…..
Real or fake (sorry, artificial)? Fake. Real ones are beautiful, though. I hear the replantable ones don't usually live, so I'm staying with my fakey.
Religious or secular? Vaguely religious, mostly just about family and giving
Santa or not? Yes, Santa, who will have a slight Solstice-Fairy makeover in years to come
Christmas or Hanukkah (or Kwanzaa or Solstice or…..)? Winter Solstice and Christmas
Eggnog or Hot Chocolate? Custard, the drinkable kind, old family recipe
Turkey or Ham (or Tofurkey)? Cookies, please, just lots of cookies.
Cash or Credit? Only cash allowed for Christmas- no debt.
Travel or stay home? Home
Mall or online? Thrift, closeout stores, or handmade
Extended family or nuclear? extended
Star or angel? sunburst usually, for solstice, or a snowflake this year
Plastic/battery operated or wooden hand painted? Prefer the latter
White lights or coloured? White
Traditional music or contemporary? A mix I guess
‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ or ‘Miracle on 34th Street’ A Christmas Story- Shane's obsessed. I keep wanting to get him a famous leg lamp but then there would be a leg lamp in the house. Erg.
Christmas Eve or Christmas Morning? Christmas Eve. We always did the family visit on the Eve, although in the coming years I'm sure seeing Molly's face Christmas morning will trump all else.
Original Grinch or Jim Carrey? Original!
Red or Green? Green
Candy Cane or Gingerbread? Gingerbread
Re-gift or Goodwill (or Ebay)? Local thrift store or Goodwill
White Christmas or Green? White, although if someday that referred to a sandy Carribean beach rather than snow that would be fine:)
‘Jingle Bells’ or “Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer” Rudolph, with the silly extra lyrics
Ready or not? Not

why i am not cool, but molly is

Squee! Rick Lee, a well-known local commercial photographer with the coolest blog, posted a snap of the Mollybird. I'm ecstatic because I am a dorky mom.

I have no hope of ever being cool, Shane says, because I am a gothy hippy chick (according to my husband, a nosering and excessive number of black tees qualifies me as goth) who uses lame wannabe gangsta slang interspersed with my "groovy"'s. Also, because the average age of new moms in my area is 5-10 years younger than me, I am going to be the weird gray streaked bag-lady-looking mom at the PTA crying because the cafeteria doesn't serve organic tofu in a region where we pretty much deep fry everything.

I am over being cool most days, and revel in my mellow at-home-in-my-own-skin-ness. Some days, though, I wake up and really want a tattoo sleeve and purple hair. Right now I'd settle for any neat haircut. I'm a mop right now. I've left a plea for help with my favorite hair goddess, but she's busy and I may have to suffer through the holidays.

remembering colleen

Colleen was a regular at my old job where I sold coffee and "gently used" clothing for transitional housing run by the YWCA. She moved here from California and didn't know many people. She'd had a terrible break-up with a long-time partner, and I don't think she knew a lot of people in the area. She'd tease me about being a breeder, but then she brought me a huge bagful of Disney movies for the baby this time last year, when the baby was only a raspberry wedged into my uterine wall. She teased me sweetly because I declined a joint at a party, promising me her generation had healthy babies and their moms smoked weed.

She had a witty, insanely dry and sarcastic demeanor and was scary smart. I think she was the most unhappy woman I've ever met. She talked about suicide openly with me, and I offered therapists' numbers, cleansing spells, and my home number to call in the wee hours if need be. She took her life this November- I just found out this week. I'm so sad I wasn't able to attend her memorial. So I'm just offerring this up to the universe: She was here, and I witnessed her being, and enjoyed her company, and her leaving hurts me.

Next time you go to your favorite locally-owned cafe, raise a hot Latte with the espresso run through twice like a Euro, with half a shot of vanilla syrup, and toast Colleen.

molly has discovered the dogs

Molly's obsessed with the dogs now. If one of them is in the room, there is to be no playing, no nursing, no eating while she stared with rapt interest at her beloved furry giant. When they are close, she is overwhelmed and can't decide whether she is in bliss or is just a little scared. It's the sweetest thing I've ever seen.

It makes me feel terrible, though, to realize how the poor dogs have plummeted in my attentions since Molly was born. They were our babies, now... not so much. They are great dogs, though.

Meet the Puppies:

Dharma: 10 years old, German Shepherd/Black Lab. Smart, sweet, with a soul deserving of her lovely Buddhist name. When she was a pup, they lived in a van and tent by the New River, and Shane was reading The Dharma Bums. She was Shane's main woman until I came along. After initial hesitation, I was adopted as a mommy with great enthusiasm. During my pregnancy, she watched over me like an angel.

Bailey: 5 years old. We inherited her from Shane's brother, who was our roommate until just before our wedding. The Boo (Bailey is the Boo of our home with the simplest spelling. Molly is the Boue, Shane's Bu, and I'm Bew) is just as sweet and affectionate as she is stupid. That's harsh, but she's not the brightest. She is our teenage rebel, and has a shaggy little boyfriend who's family has to walk her home a couple times a week.

the first booboo

Shane has the baby playing by our mirrored door, and he decides the edges are very sharp and he should play at another mirror. I come downstairs and see the adorableness of baby and Daddy frolicking with Reflected Baby and Reflected Daddy. Then I see a bright red mess on the mirror, and think, "Have I ever worked on any paintings down here? How is there red paint on this mirror? Oh, is that blood?" I say, "What's that red stuff? Is she bleeding?" We examine the Boue and yes, it is her blood. It's a little bitty cut on her finger. She is blissfully oblivious, twisting to see Reflected Molly some more. We whisk her away to the kitchen and Shane holds out the tiny hand while I wash it with warm water, then I am sent to get the gigantic first aid kit. It is huge and waterproof, for my husband is the God of Whitewater Safety. Although would a good Rafting God let his gauze pads get all dry-rotted? No, He would not. So then we find Band-Aids and cut one into wee pieces and after a while the bleeding stops and all is well again.

The funny thing is, I so did not freak out, even a little. Shane's tone during the washing and bandage hunting was this uber-calm "Don't freak out, Mama" voice, but it was not necessary. I totally rock with the not swooning at the site of my baby's blood. Probably it's because she was in no actual pain, because remember the first tumble how I boohoo'ed? Hah! I was still a newbie then, not an experienced and worldly mom-for-six-and-a-half-months like I am now:)

happy moon day

Seven moons. Wow. My little piglet's growing up so fast. I can't believe how fast May became December. We had a loooong night last night. The Boue had gas and a stuffy nose, so she refused to lie down for more than a short while. I took her downstairs to the rocking chair, wrapped us up in a blanket tight so if I dosed she'd be secure, and rocked her back to sleep. Then I'd try to put her into Ye Magickal Swinge For Desp'rate Motheres and she'd start bawling gaain. Repeated this three or so times, and when I finally got her to sleep for real, I lay down with us still in a mommybaby burrito and we slept with her on my chest like when she was a cranky newborn. It was nice, that whole one hour of good sleep we got before the alarm clock sounded.

La piglet must have had gas because she ate an entire container of squash, and some mashed potatoes Mamaw snuck her. She won't eat good for me. Nor will she allow a bottle or sippy if the nummins are even a slight possibility. (Daddy only has limited sucess with the sippy.) Mama = boobage, and that's final, apparently. Um, at some point she will allow me to give her food and water, right?

nightmares real and imagined

Too much tragedy on my mind, I guess: The girl who was the secretary before me at the clinic called us Wednesday to tell us her fiance had been killed in a work accident. He had been in Iraq for over a year and was home for a few months and died of electrocution working on power lines. I'm so sad for my friend and her son, who called her fiance "Daddy." I'm so frustrated for her also, because of the timing. If they'd been married she would have recieved some financial benefits and have fewer money worries on top of her grief.

I've been following the story of the Kim family, too, maybe for longer than most of us East-Coasters. So many of my blog-friends are on the West coast and they mentioned the missing father this week. I just hurt for that family. Such a new baby, and she and her big sister so suddenly without their father. I can't even pretend to imagine the loss their mother feels.

The worries turned into a nightmare. The baby was playing with Shane on a trailor hitch flatbed thing, and I reached for her because I saw she was lying on the edge. She fell then, into a steep creek embankment filled with rocks and very shallow water. It was a slow motion, sickening thing, watching her fall. I started to dive headfirst after her, then realized I'd kill myself. I ran down the embankment and found her at the bottom. She was breathing, but there were shards of rock stuck into her head. I was afraid to move her but almost did, then I worried her neck was broken so I just held her and told her "Keep breathing, baby, stay with me, stay with me." The realism of these dreams is awful. A few nights ago, I dreamt she was diagnosed with a heart defect and was going to die. Each time, I woke up with the beginnings of a tension headache and had to get up, check on the baby, and drink a glass of water and some pain reliever. I wonder if my subconscious has trouble when she sleeps in her crib. I haven't had any nightmares when she sleeps with us.

I'd like to cosleep full time, I think, but there are problems. I always put her in her crib at first, anyway, because she goes to bed around 8, and I need to have some awake grown-up time. Also, Shane's not a fan of keeping Molly in our bed after infancy, and it's so hard to get her used to sleeping alone if she gets used to it now. The half-crib, half-cosleeping arrangement we have now is working fine for now. She wakes at 4 or 5 a.m. to nurse, and then sleeps with us the rest of the morning. I guess as she starts sleeping longer at night it'll evolve into her staying in her room. (If she ever sleeps longer than that. Not that I'm complaining, I'm all too aware that many babies nurse all night long.) I'll miss her though.

I guess it's the nightmare, but I'm being totally clingy. She's had more kisses today than I can count. Snuggle time has been pretty much an all day thing. I just can't let go of that warm tiny body that's so fragile and light. She still feels so baby-ish and little- comparing her to a couple of babies of friends who were chunky monkeys at six months. I love my dainty Little Bit.

Will I ever stop being so anxious and frightened of losing her? If I don't chill sometime soon, I am so not going to be the groovy laid back Mama I want to be. Or maybe I will- I told Shane I'll be the worrier until puberty and then he can take over. I'm totally comfy dealing with sex and drugs and the fun teen rebellion things, but he's so not. He's already joking about being the typical backwoods WV dad sittin' on the porch with a shotgun to meet her dates. Laugh now with me- I'll be crying about it later when he really tries to pull some redneck macho bullshit.

slingin' goodness, molly speaks, and the quest for velvet

I finally found a position Molly likes with our DIY baby sling, which in a former incarnation was a longish shawl I bought at the thrift store and wore to my bridal shower. I tried it when she was newborn in a pouch-like cradled position and she didn't like it much. The other evening I used it differently. It's just tied with one big knot in a circle, and I put it over one shoulder, then slip Molly in straddling the fabric, then I open it up to cup her bottom and twist and open it to cup my shoulder. I'll post a photo sometime soon.

We went to an art reception and this woman said, "Wow, it's so nice to see you're slinging your baby. Is that a Such and Such wrap or a such and such?" I said it was a shawl I found second hand that I improvised and she was delighted. Turns out she's a La Leche League leader and does demos of babywearing and makes slings. She offered to help me fine-tune our new-found sling ability and I'll probably attend the LLL meeting this week. I was just thrilled to meet her on top of all my hippiemama pride at finally wearing her on our great night out.

We had such a fantastic weekend of girliness. Friday, before the art show, we met at Jen's house with a bunch of friends I haven't seen in a while. Molly got oodles of attention. She was playing in the floor when she decided to look at me an nonchalantly say, "Mmm. Mom. Mama."! I know it'll be even more incredible when she knows I am her Mama and she's labelling me, but my Goddess it was beautiful just to hear her tiny Molly voice say that wonderful wordlet.

Today we went to the mall with her Mamaw in the continuing quest for the all important Christmas (ahem, Solstice) outfit. We went everywhere and found that either 1) they had an adorable dress that we loved but none were smaller than 18 months, 2) they had nothing but cheesy red junk with candy canes and teddy bears, or 3) they had dresses I could live with but wasn't thrilled with. We decided to head out to The Hellmouth (big shopping center of discount stores and Evil, Vile traffic. Cool anagram there, yes?) but on our way out we realized we'd forgotten Macy's. We found a clearance rack, and started looking through, and then clouds parted and a choir of angels (for Mamaw) and faeries (for me) started singing and we found The Dress. It's a deep green, velvet with cream satin trim and little pearls and a flower with dangly ribbons. It has a velvet stretchy headband (which I usually hate, but I have been possessed by girliness) and l'il bloomers. It's freakin' adorable. I really, really wanted green velvet. I am a happy mama. Oh, there will be photos, lots and lots of photos.

bear with me, oh loyal peeps

I'm attempting to revamp the [former] loveliness that is [was] my blog. It may be wonky for a while. I promis, new improved loveliness will return soon.

But, look! -------> Organization.

Swell, huh?

our birth story

It only took me six months, but I've finally finished writing my birth story. Starts here, and I dated the posts so they're physically in order on the page if you're on the main blog page.

she's my sweet potato

The sweet potatoes were a huge hit. She did really well with opening her mouth and swallowing; I was impressed. My contributions turned out pretty well, I suppose. The made-from-scratch and jello-free cranberry sauce was very tart and offended my 9 year old nephew's palate, but the grown-ups liked it. My glazed carrots could have had more glaziness, but were okay. The broccoli casserole was great. I could have eaten a ton of it, but Molly would have been pissed because broccoli-mom-milk gives her terrible gas.

After dinner with Shane's family we went to my Grandma's. She's doing really well now that she's back home. Her dementia is much better in a familiar environment. I think it's very mild, but Shane says she's more wacky than I think. Mostly she just repeats herself over and over. She had the best time playing with the baby- Molly was in the giggliest mood I've ever seen. She was just adorable.

I missed my mom so much, but it gets better and better. Molly is the best healing wonder. Being a mom makes me feel closer to my mom. I am still so close to her, it's weird maybe. I don't get into the guardian angel thing or any of that specific, religious stuff- it seems so literal and cheesy to me- I just feel closeness I guess. Like I still have a familiarity with her and a comfort about her memory that feels like the very mundane normal closeness we had when she was alive. Of course, there are times when all I feel is her absense, and it's like a fresh, wounded screaming pain that will never, ever heal. An orphaned, angry, lost feeling filled with confused denial. It just may never seem acceptable to my heart that she is gone. I think those moments are coming less often. They used to be so awful. I wince remembering the way Shane would hold me and I'd sob and shake. Now usually I have a little warm melancholy feeling, like a lingering ache but the baby will smile and I'll know her motherness is in me now as I sing and rock Molly.

(edited for a new better collage and longer entry-hre)

happy moon day

Molly's new trick, in celebration of her sixth lunar month, is sitting:) She sits, supporting herself with her hands, when we position her. It's awesome. She looks like a tiny little girl. She had her first sanctioned taste of food yesterday- two little fingerfulls of mashed potato off her Mawmaw's plate. She seemed to dig it, so sweet potatoes may be our first real feeding. I want to wait until her little gut recovers from the onslaught of the antibiotics and then try yummies!

pregnancy inspired artwork, a note about Grandma

"Motherline:" Untitled Variations on sketch for Motherline:

A dear friend, talented artist, and former professor just let me know she's expecting a baby girl this spring. Congratulations, Sabina! (Check out her page- she does really strong work about identity and culture) To celebrate, I'm posting some of the art I made while I was pregnant. I remember a conversation with Sabina a couple of years ago, when she told me that she thought maybe becoming a mom would be great for me and it would "pull me out of myself." She was, as usual, so right.

I took Molly to the hospital to see my Grandma, who fell and hurt her knee and aggrivated her two mended hips. I had the baby cloistered in a stroller under several layers to keep the germs at bay. I almost didn't take her but I had strong intuition that we needed to go. Grandma was overjoyed to see her "Holly." (She gets the name right a good 50% of the time, so we don't complain:) She's in the very early stages of Alzheimer's as best the doctors can guess. She's just dotty and it's still sort of cute to me, although I dread the real confusion that will come later. Right now she just repeats herself alot, and mixes up names. Today she was telling her roommate about Molly and me, and about how mom had died. She turned to me and asked "Did they ever figure out why your mother died?" and I had to remind her about the cancer. It was surreal, sitting down the hall from where Mom died and reminding Grandma about it. This visit didn't upset me like it usually has to be in the building. I guess I'm finally desensitizing a little bit. I hate most the smell of the disinfectant soap there- scent is so connected to memory.

I love talking to her so much. Every second I'm with her I'm so present and in the moment. Losing Mom made me so focused on savoring the time I have with Grandma, and so thankful she is with us and well enough to remember the baby.

marriage

I don't write alot about my marriage outside of our role as co-parents, and in that respect I'm usually worrying about clashing ideologies. It's easy to avoid examining a marriage because it's an existence that's so easily taken for granted. It's like breathing, eating, sleeping. We have lived as if married for five years although our wedding was two years ago. I'm really instrospective the past few days about our marriage. I've just finished reading The Mermaid Chair, by Sue Monk Kidd and it brought up the issue of taking a marriage for granted. It also deals with an artist wife who feels tamed by her marriage. She falls passionately in love with another man and reconnects with her home and her mother and herself. It's heartbreakingly beautiful. At the time I've been reading this, our situation is a tense, all-but-sexless marriage of struggling new parents with barely enough money to survive. Shane is so stressed about finances he snaps at me, at telemarketers, at the dogs. Little bursts of severe asshole behavior have shot through like bullets that shatter my relative contentment. Meanwhile, we aren't making love because I have no desire for it, and we've barely spent any time together alone between all the part-time jobs it takes to make our household run.

We were out yesterday and Shane spouted some rage about something trivial and it just lodged in my head that he can be such a shit. His temper unsettles me so much. Then I was reading the book, and this cold fear settled into me and I saw myself in several years leaving him. I saw his temper flares just building and frustrating me and then I thought of how different we are and thought how devastating it would be to meet someone I connected with like the heroine of my book. Seeing this possible future made me feel 1,000 miles away from my husband. It ripped me open to be feeling our marriage as a thing that could be broken someday, a vulnerable entity that either one of us could tear apart. I have always felt if something did happen to us, it would be my breaking the vows. I sometimes worry that the wildness in me isn't meant to be married. I fret about not making art anymore. I wonder if I've lost anything to this union.

I examine those thoughts and I think that it's normal for me to wonder about those things. The truth is, I am a much better version of all possible me's because of Shane. The thing I've lost, the drive to create, it is a sleeping thing like a fire I've let dwindle, and neither my wifeness nor my husband has anything to do with that. I've struggled with that all my life. Shane has been my best advocate for channeling my energies into art. But I was reading my book, all these doubts worrying around in my head. I realized they were going to fester and grow into some resentment or anger if they weren't voiced. I went to him and it took me a long time to frame the vague ideas into a conversation, but he listened patiently and we talked about the stresses and the shape of our life and our lives. We were actually feeling similar anxieties but expressing them differently I think. I felt waves of relief giving vent to my doubts about us, and the relief washed them away as I realized how amazing it is I can talk with him about this, how strong we are. I needed to mend the disconnected feeling I'd had, and he held me close. Then the comfort turned to a fierce need to physically connect and we made love very beautifully. It was a wonderful, necessary ritual binding us tighter and the mood of the house is much lighter and cleaner now.

In unrelated news, there was another trip to the pediatrician's office today. I'd been waiting it out- just a cold, but her cough was getting worse and I didn't want to wait the weekend out with her feeling increasingly bad. The nurse said she had an ear infection too, but I hadn't seen any signs of it. I was loathe to put her back on antibiotics again since she's still on poopalot mode from the last one.

I brought her home and talked it over with Shane, and we decided ear infections are serious enough that we didn't feel like it was overreacting to use the antibiotics so we went to the pharmacy for them and to get some decongestant the nurse recommmended. It had pseudoephidrine in it, and they no longer carry anything with that at our pharmacy. The pharmacist was great, though. She went through all the possibilities with us and told us how the substitute for pseudoephidrine hasn't been tested in kids under 2. She was very knowledgeable. We bought some cough medicine & decided to stick with breastmilk dribbled into her nose and the nasal suction bulb for her nasal congestion.

After we got home, she spewed everywhere, so I gave her a bath and clean comfy pajamas. Then she pooped all over herself, so she got another bath and the last clean pj's, forcing me to wash a load of baby clothes as well as the bedsheets she'd thrown up on. Her cough has been gone since the medicine. Since the visit to the doctor's office I noticed her pulling on her ear, and then she wouldn't nurse with that side of her head lying down, so I had to wrestle her into a football hold. It is not fun to try to get a five month old baby into a new strange nursing position. She was very "whatthefuck?" Tonight may suck as our side-lying, semi-comatose-mommy position won't work if her ear still hurts.

showers & wings

This is a piece of art I created for my friend's baby's nursery. (Yes, that's a sleeping Molly.) We went to her shower Saturday. I obsessed about giving her this, worrying that she'd see it as a photo of Molly and a self-centered gift rather than as a collage using a photo of Molly. Shane told me it was fine but I'm still not sure. Anyway, it's cute. She is decorating with fairies and winged creatures.

The shower was great. I met a sweet woman who has two-year-old twins and conceived by artificial insemination. She and her girlfriend live next door to the mom-to-be. She offered me several nursing tops for cheap when she heard I'm planning on extended nursing. I don't have any nursing shirts, so that's a very cool thing. Extended nursing... so weird a term. Like there's an invisible line at age 1 when it suddenly becomes an extra, strange thing to do. 'Round here most folks think it's gross to nurse after a year. Well, alot of them think nursing's gross, period. Weirdest thing how that came to be the mindset amongst a poor bunch of people. They'd rather spend money on formula- it blows my mind.

The baby's back to normal... her itchy red bottom is almost healed, and she slept 7 or 8 hours last night without any nummins (nursing.) Of course, as Murphy's Law would dictate, I had insomnia. Probably because she's nursed non-stop during the week of evil diarrhea.

this post is NOT titled "got milk?" because i am NOT a dork

I had the neatest observation today. When my milk lets down (oh sorry Dr. Sears, I mean when I experience my 'milk ejection reflex'....heh) I have this tiny ache in the opposite breast. I could never describe it, but this morning Shane and I had a little tiff and tears welled up in my eyes. The burning ache right before the tears spill? That's my let-down ache, only right behind my nipple. It made so much sense and seemed so poetic. It's like the other boobie is crying because it's jealous. That breast wants an adorable baby cuddled up to it, too. Only thanks, Goddess that it doesn't for that would mean twins and a total spazzer mommy.

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Jennifer at The Lactivist requests that we help publicize the efforts of HMBANA, a non-profit milk bank which distributes breast milk from donor moms. This link to her entry tells how a large drug company is trying to elbow HMBANA out of the way as it scrambles for profit. I am appropriately infuriated, and thought I'd repost in case any of you can donate cash or milk or know someone who could. http://thelactivist.blogspot.com/2006/10/donating-milk-know-who-you-are-sending.html I'm disappointed I can't donate milk, because I was pumping at least a few ounces more per day than Molly can drink. Turns out my milk gets wonky after a few days in the freezer unless I scald it which would make me ineligible to donate.

as promised gothiness, with bonus turtle

See all the halloweeny fun at our flickr page.
This was after the tiring medical drama of the day, which is all moot now anyway. (Briefly: there was a wicked fever, there was a urine test, blood test, threat of scary dye-imaging testing, then antibiotics, then diaper rash and diarrhea. Then all the tests were clear and the drama evaporated. Now all we have to worry about is Molly's poor gut getting normalized after the medical invasion. There have been 456,992,344 poo diapers. My ass would be red & itchy too.)

omygoddess i love these boots

OK, I seriously can’t wait to show you guys pictures of my outfit. After deciding not to fuck with creating costumes for the party, I was suddenly struck by a case of free mama when the grandparents picked up Molly. So I goth’d myself up beautifully, if I do say so my own sexy self. It’s so cute; it’s like I’m channeling myself at 19 on a random weekend. Did not go for the black hair dye (I hear Type O Negative in my head now…lol) but the black cat’s eye makeup, hoop in the nostril, and shitkicker boots are vintage Heidi. Woohoo~ I love Halloween! Giddy me. And I haven’t even started drinking yet. (We had a good stash of milk in the fridge so I’m planning on being a somewhat liberal partier and pumping and dumping.

After debating that plan for days Shane begged me to chill and take a “night off.” Um, yeah. I’ll just press the pause button on my maternal instincts for the evening. I have decided, actually, that since the baby’s securely elsewhere I have permission to relax a notch or two down from my usual state of anxiety- comparable to terrorist-alert-orange I think. So there. Shane’ll be home in a few minutes and he can help me fasten my fishnets to my garter belt and ask me “where did this come from?” I’m sure I will have a pleasantly surprised husband. Poor guy perpetually sees me in an unbuttoned nightgown with milk stains. Not the most seductive of looks.