Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
HELLO!
Shocker of the Day: Accidentally turning breast pump ALL THE WAY ON instead of ALL THE WAY OFF.
Sweet, loving Jesus did that ever get my attention.
Sweet, loving Jesus did that ever get my attention.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Testing, testing -
I have a Blogger App for the iPhone. We shall see how this works!
I'm loving my life right now. Its true, im missing BIL. But last night was great fun. And today is delightful.
The communty and living situation i currently enjoy are unique and modern and hard to explain. Rather than belabor the particulars, it is sufficient to say that i am loving every second of it. Meets and exceeds expectations!
Here we are back onstage at Big Art Labs, with Sylvie and new friends from Vau de Vire...
I'm loving my life right now. Its true, im missing BIL. But last night was great fun. And today is delightful.
The communty and living situation i currently enjoy are unique and modern and hard to explain. Rather than belabor the particulars, it is sufficient to say that i am loving every second of it. Meets and exceeds expectations!
Here we are back onstage at Big Art Labs, with Sylvie and new friends from Vau de Vire...
Friday, March 4, 2011
Things I Want My Daughter to Know (continued):
15. You are the only one responsible for your feelings. People say and do hurtful things all the time, but allowing yourself to be hurt by them is a choice that you make.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Things I Want My Daughter to Know (a list in progress):
1. Calculus. Single variable fine - but you should be able to integrate a few simple functions, even if you decide you want to be a painter or a diplomat or whatever.
2. People are going to judge you for your appearances. You don't have to care, but I would be a bad mother if I allowed you to believe otherwise. Plan accordingly.
2a. Get in the habit of hanging and folding your clothes. And learn to iron.
3. Good posture will improve even the crappiest outlook. Stand tall and breathe from your core.
4. You don't have to like everyone you meet, so don't take it personally if not everyone you meet likes you.
5. If you don't have anything nice to say, say nothing. Words spoken are like any other commodity - the more of them there are, the less value they have. Tis better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt. Those who know don't talk, those who talk don't know... Etc etc ad infinitum.
5a. Never put anything in writing that you wouldn't want read aloud to you by a judge.
6. Exercise is your friend.
7. Humor opens more doors than money.
8. If somebody in a big hurry asks you to "hold this for me really quickly," always say no. Even if it's somebody you know really well.
8a. Address all police officers as "Sir" or "Ma'am" and politely decline to discuss anything with them (the weather, your favorite color, anything) without an attorney present.
9. "Please" and "Thank You" are extremely useful phrases. Incorporate them into your vocabulary early and often!
10. Having a goal makes everything easier. Unfortunately, I can offer no insight into how to obtain a goal - for me it has always been an automatic process. I hope you are so blessed. This is not the case for everyone.
11. Avoid like the plague people who won't take "No" for an answer (unless they are trying to hire you).
12. You may someday be brilliant and beautiful and talented! But even if you are, nobody owes you anything. Humility and hard work are necessary for durable success.
12a. You are your own best advocate. Learn to value your skills accurately, accept praise gracefully, seek promotion actively, and undertake challenges equal to your ambition.
12b. Occasionally a teacher, peer or employer will totally gut what you thought was the accurate valuation of your skill. Accept this gracefully too. Failure is opportunity.
13. Real food doesn't have cartoons on the packaging. In fact, the less packaging the better.
14. Little girl, you are going to grow up to be a woman. There are people out there who will hold keys or purse-strings who will expect you to be obliging, and nice, and easy to manipulate. Who will assume that you are not-so-capable, or attempt to intimidate you. Recognize that this is a weakness of theirs, not of yours - don't let it concern you. Instead, give the bastards enough rope to hang themselves (see 12a).
2. People are going to judge you for your appearances. You don't have to care, but I would be a bad mother if I allowed you to believe otherwise. Plan accordingly.
2a. Get in the habit of hanging and folding your clothes. And learn to iron.
3. Good posture will improve even the crappiest outlook. Stand tall and breathe from your core.
4. You don't have to like everyone you meet, so don't take it personally if not everyone you meet likes you.
5. If you don't have anything nice to say, say nothing. Words spoken are like any other commodity - the more of them there are, the less value they have. Tis better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt. Those who know don't talk, those who talk don't know... Etc etc ad infinitum.
5a. Never put anything in writing that you wouldn't want read aloud to you by a judge.
6. Exercise is your friend.
7. Humor opens more doors than money.
8. If somebody in a big hurry asks you to "hold this for me really quickly," always say no. Even if it's somebody you know really well.
8a. Address all police officers as "Sir" or "Ma'am" and politely decline to discuss anything with them (the weather, your favorite color, anything) without an attorney present.
9. "Please" and "Thank You" are extremely useful phrases. Incorporate them into your vocabulary early and often!
10. Having a goal makes everything easier. Unfortunately, I can offer no insight into how to obtain a goal - for me it has always been an automatic process. I hope you are so blessed. This is not the case for everyone.
11. Avoid like the plague people who won't take "No" for an answer (unless they are trying to hire you).
12. You may someday be brilliant and beautiful and talented! But even if you are, nobody owes you anything. Humility and hard work are necessary for durable success.
12a. You are your own best advocate. Learn to value your skills accurately, accept praise gracefully, seek promotion actively, and undertake challenges equal to your ambition.
12b. Occasionally a teacher, peer or employer will totally gut what you thought was the accurate valuation of your skill. Accept this gracefully too. Failure is opportunity.
13. Real food doesn't have cartoons on the packaging. In fact, the less packaging the better.
14. Little girl, you are going to grow up to be a woman. There are people out there who will hold keys or purse-strings who will expect you to be obliging, and nice, and easy to manipulate. Who will assume that you are not-so-capable, or attempt to intimidate you. Recognize that this is a weakness of theirs, not of yours - don't let it concern you. Instead, give the bastards enough rope to hang themselves (see 12a).
Monday, February 28, 2011
Day 25 Postpartum: Bad Mother Confessions.
Ok, so I've stopped losing weight. And in fact, I have begun to gain some back. Here is why:
After 9 months of assiduously avoiding Real Booze, and enjoying only the occasional half-glass of wine or lager, I have reacquainted myself with The Sauce. Oh, alcohol. I missed you so.
I am not exaggerating when I tell you that the duration of my pregnancy was the longest period of time I have spent totally sober since Junior High School. Not that I've ever been a crazed addict or anything. But eliminating all mind-alteration from my diet was frankly boring as shit - not just because Mama Digs the Light Fantastic, but because I got to watch all of Nova's loving aunts and uncles traipse through the Doors of Perception for three seasons while I sipped Perrier and drove them places.
FUCK that.
Yes, I will relish a return to lean, mean superhero shape. The Fatherbeast, too, is looking forward to a metabolic spring cleaning after the cloistered past few months of cookies and pre-frozen meals. But getting back into superhero shape necessitates an elimination of empty calories and frankly I am not ready to walk away from Quality Adult Beverages just yet. We've had so little time together.
And for those of you who will cluck your tongues (Hi, Grandma!), please rest easy. I am timing my indulgences to ensure that they will clear from my system in time for DD's next feeding. Alcohol levels in breastmilk, as in plasma, peak at 30 minutes post consumption and require ~2 hours to clear. Each feeding requires 15-20 minutes. So by nursing her as I enjoy a cocktail, I am both minimizing the amount of time I must wait to feed her "clean" milk, and maximizing the shock value of bringing a baby into a bar. Double WIN!
In other boob news, I have been pumping The Juice to stockpile for my return to work on April 1. Of course I intend to pump at work as well, but there's no telling whether that will go well straightaway and what harm can possibly come of establishing a pumping routine early? It's hard enough to do it at home. I can only imagine what it will be like in a month when I have to dash off to a special room in the middle of whatever I'm doing, lest my tits obscure access to the dissecting microscope or leak into a sample of cultured virus.
Because each pumping session represents one routine feeding, I am supplementing with formula (I'm also using DISPOSABLE DIAPERS, and we are decorating the nursery with the pelts of Polar Bears). It would be sad if it weren't hilarious.
If you've ever nursed a child, you're familiar with the totally blissed out expression they get - one of rapture and trust and what passes for affection in a creature that can barely see in stereo and weighs less than a standing rib roast. Whenever I feed her the formula, the look she gives me is the opposite of that. It is one of discomfort, and betrayal, and lament. Her tiny little brow furrows. Her lips contort into a grimace even around the offending rubber nipple. "This is not a boob!" her demeanor projects. "I thought you loved me?" Oh but I do. I do. There is no other individual on earth, nor any sum of money, that could convince me to attach the Medela to my person for a combined hour every day.
Ladies: do you consider your breasts erogenous? Have you ever felt objectified when someone stared you down, appreciating them for those specific qualities without attaching any value to you as a person? This is just like that, except instead of being objectified for beauty, you're objectified for functionality. The act of pumping breast milk is a literal objectification. Except instead of being exploited for your desirability, you are now exploited for calories. Pumping manages to entirely suck the charm and intimacy out breastfeeding. You're a dairy farm in so many words. It is a reminder that your perfect child, whom you love and would do anything for, is (or will shortly be) separated from you. It is painful and graceless and completely unsexy to all but dedicated fetishists who surfed to this page accidentally (keep moving, fellas).
But of course I will continue to do it for as long as I can. Because I want only the best for my bean. Because of the look that she gives me when I feed her the formula bottle. It's not rat poison, but from the look on her face it might as well be.
In the meantime, I am coping as well as I can with the continuing indignities of the postpartum period. The pain from my sutures is nearly gone, but I'm still bleeding. And waking up drenched in sweat every night. I understand my hair is due to start falling out shortly. So while I do feel blessed in that I am now mobile again and postpartum depression seems to have given me a pass (knock wood) I am anxious to return to a normal-ish state. One that involves only the minimum amount of excretions necessary for the health of my child. Ick.
After 9 months of assiduously avoiding Real Booze, and enjoying only the occasional half-glass of wine or lager, I have reacquainted myself with The Sauce. Oh, alcohol. I missed you so.
I am not exaggerating when I tell you that the duration of my pregnancy was the longest period of time I have spent totally sober since Junior High School. Not that I've ever been a crazed addict or anything. But eliminating all mind-alteration from my diet was frankly boring as shit - not just because Mama Digs the Light Fantastic, but because I got to watch all of Nova's loving aunts and uncles traipse through the Doors of Perception for three seasons while I sipped Perrier and drove them places.
FUCK that.
Yes, I will relish a return to lean, mean superhero shape. The Fatherbeast, too, is looking forward to a metabolic spring cleaning after the cloistered past few months of cookies and pre-frozen meals. But getting back into superhero shape necessitates an elimination of empty calories and frankly I am not ready to walk away from Quality Adult Beverages just yet. We've had so little time together.
And for those of you who will cluck your tongues (Hi, Grandma!), please rest easy. I am timing my indulgences to ensure that they will clear from my system in time for DD's next feeding. Alcohol levels in breastmilk, as in plasma, peak at 30 minutes post consumption and require ~2 hours to clear. Each feeding requires 15-20 minutes. So by nursing her as I enjoy a cocktail, I am both minimizing the amount of time I must wait to feed her "clean" milk, and maximizing the shock value of bringing a baby into a bar. Double WIN!
In other boob news, I have been pumping The Juice to stockpile for my return to work on April 1. Of course I intend to pump at work as well, but there's no telling whether that will go well straightaway and what harm can possibly come of establishing a pumping routine early? It's hard enough to do it at home. I can only imagine what it will be like in a month when I have to dash off to a special room in the middle of whatever I'm doing, lest my tits obscure access to the dissecting microscope or leak into a sample of cultured virus.
Because each pumping session represents one routine feeding, I am supplementing with formula (I'm also using DISPOSABLE DIAPERS, and we are decorating the nursery with the pelts of Polar Bears). It would be sad if it weren't hilarious.
If you've ever nursed a child, you're familiar with the totally blissed out expression they get - one of rapture and trust and what passes for affection in a creature that can barely see in stereo and weighs less than a standing rib roast. Whenever I feed her the formula, the look she gives me is the opposite of that. It is one of discomfort, and betrayal, and lament. Her tiny little brow furrows. Her lips contort into a grimace even around the offending rubber nipple. "This is not a boob!" her demeanor projects. "I thought you loved me?" Oh but I do. I do. There is no other individual on earth, nor any sum of money, that could convince me to attach the Medela to my person for a combined hour every day.
Ladies: do you consider your breasts erogenous? Have you ever felt objectified when someone stared you down, appreciating them for those specific qualities without attaching any value to you as a person? This is just like that, except instead of being objectified for beauty, you're objectified for functionality. The act of pumping breast milk is a literal objectification. Except instead of being exploited for your desirability, you are now exploited for calories. Pumping manages to entirely suck the charm and intimacy out breastfeeding. You're a dairy farm in so many words. It is a reminder that your perfect child, whom you love and would do anything for, is (or will shortly be) separated from you. It is painful and graceless and completely unsexy to all but dedicated fetishists who surfed to this page accidentally (keep moving, fellas).
But of course I will continue to do it for as long as I can. Because I want only the best for my bean. Because of the look that she gives me when I feed her the formula bottle. It's not rat poison, but from the look on her face it might as well be.
In the meantime, I am coping as well as I can with the continuing indignities of the postpartum period. The pain from my sutures is nearly gone, but I'm still bleeding. And waking up drenched in sweat every night. I understand my hair is due to start falling out shortly. So while I do feel blessed in that I am now mobile again and postpartum depression seems to have given me a pass (knock wood) I am anxious to return to a normal-ish state. One that involves only the minimum amount of excretions necessary for the health of my child. Ick.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Day 14 Postpartum
I am dragging ass.
Really, I think it has more to do with the absence of structure in my days. The Fatherbeast is back at work, and I am here with... not so much to do. I am trying to be gentle with myself. But I'm going to need a schedule soon.
Tomorrow, I think, it will definitely be time to start working out again.
Vital Statistics:
Hips: 39
Waist: 30
Bust: 41
Weight: 156.4
Body fat %: 21.5
I've lost 20 lbs in two weeks! Feels weird.
No pictures today - I'm slovenly.
Really, I think it has more to do with the absence of structure in my days. The Fatherbeast is back at work, and I am here with... not so much to do. I am trying to be gentle with myself. But I'm going to need a schedule soon.
Tomorrow, I think, it will definitely be time to start working out again.
Vital Statistics:
Hips: 39
Waist: 30
Bust: 41
Weight: 156.4
Body fat %: 21.5
I've lost 20 lbs in two weeks! Feels weird.
No pictures today - I'm slovenly.
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