Hi, I have Mastitis, how is your day?

Tuesday, May 27, 2008 by Bethany

If someone had warned me how painful mastitis is... I may have reconsidered nursing. Holy Damn! This sucks. And if anyone has a way to make antibiotics kick in faster, please let me know, been dealing with sharp pains from my left breast since early afternoon yesterday. It doesn't make for a pleasant night sleep. Or a day's nap. Or any sleeping whatsoever.

In other news, the kids are both still sick. So is The Husband, who along with sporting a healing rib fracture, is pretty sure he has pneumonia but is refusing to go to the doctor just yet.

So, if you see our family sneezing, coughing, or even just walking within a 10 foot radius of you and yours truly-- run. And do it fast! Quite possibly as far, far away as possible too. You never know what you might catch.

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7:14 PM | | 2 comments

If I'd had time to post yesterday

Thursday, May 08, 2008 by Bethany

It was so crazy busy from the time I opened my eyes yesterday--that I barely made it in time to my office for The Meeting. You know, one of those Must Be Present Meetings Or You Look Bad ones. Yeah. Nice way to start your morning. That and the fact that I was worried The Peanut wouldn't have enough pumped milk. So, I sat in my bathroom as my sitter had the baby in the living room and tried to pump a few more ounces before I left. Thus... my lateness.

But the pumping and breast milk thing gets better. Work was so crazy that I didn't have time to pump there (and ongoing problem I am having. And why I was worried about The Peanut above). It gets good beyond this point--so if you don't want to hear how crazy I am or about pumping or breast milk--just skip down to the next paragraph. It'll save you the details. Gone? Okay good. So, here's the real deal. I pumped in the car. Yes. My Handy Dandy Mega pump has a battery adapter. Combine that with my super sports bra, I threw caution to the wind (and my modesty) and pumped in the car. T-shirt covered all areas of concern, but I am sure I turned a few heads. Am I nuts? Sure. It's the least of my worries right now.

Onto other items....

If I would have had time I also would have shared that while I intended on driving to Bed, Bath and Beyond to exchange a few bath towels for the right size, I also landed in Old Navy. I love that place. And true to my previous store experiences, had a cart full of clothes to prove it. Summer clothes. T-shirts, fun ballet shoes, and some drawstring jeans that I am totally in love with. And this fun red/tan/yellow print flowy shirt that will be a must wear for work. So I was feeling pretty good. Especially when I got home, put them on, and they all fit. That is, until I was pumping breast milk in said outfit yesterday as I was leaving my office. Does it get better than this?

Oh and Target diapers! How come no one clued me in on how cute and awesome these are? Not only are the cheaper than the name brand, they feel very good to the touch. Smooth. Light. Comfy. They sure as hell better hold in the waste of my daughter or it just might burst my Target bubble. And we don't want that. Would be as bad as bursting my Old Navy love.

And the book review. Yes, I wrote this lovely book review for THE GAY UNCLE'S GUIDE TO PARENTING by Brett Berk for Poshmama. It's a lovely, fun, snarky, and real book about parenting. You need to register and be a woman to read the review. But let me just say this. It's fun. It's a fun read. Even if you are already in the throws of parenthood.

Speaking of writing, there's chapter 5 of LIFE AS GRETA at Hybrid Mom too. And yeah, by some miracle I've been able to juggle this all together with my daughter who just doesn't want to sleep anymore. And my husband's schedule which is as crazy as mine. In fact, he's gone all weekend again. Fun times in sorta single parenting again. Though, to his credit, he'll be home after 9pm. Which, can mean fun times. If you know what I mean.

Anyway, I could keep ranting. Or sharing. Or whatever it is I do on this blog. But right now my brain has dumped all it has right now. I think I can collect enough thoughts for tomorrow. Or at least that is the plan.

UPDATED: And if I get ONE MORE MESSAGE from someone trying to get me to post some crap review about mother's day gifts... WTF? Seriously. You people can't fool me. Avid reader my ass. You're looking for free advertising. Not. Going. To. Get. It. Here. I only pimp what I know. And I don't know you from Adam.

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2:19 PM | | 0 comments

Don't Jinx A Good Thing

Wednesday, March 26, 2008 by Bethany

Remember when I said I Need My Daughter To Want Me? Yeah. So, you should have shot me then. The last two days, she's needed more than life itself, which has caused me to hate my life more than life itself. I mean, seriously, having a child scream her head off when you take a moment to go to the bathroom? Mind you, she is lying on the bath mat IN FRONT OF ME while I am taking a piss...

Now, if that were the only issue, I wouldn't complain. I swear. But it's worse. Much worse. Let me tell you about the current bed time routine (and why I am posting at this God awful hour). She starts rubbing her eyes, screeches louder than normal, and the 5 seconds I can normally put her down so I can say--rub my own eyes-has dissipated into nothing but screaming sessions. All of the above--means bedtime. She gets love from her Big Bro, from The Husband and we are off to bed. Nursing. And Nursing. More nursing. And... wait... she doesn't let go. EVER. Or when she does, it takes a whole 30 seconds for the wailing to start.

God do I hate this "phase." Or whatever it is. My son did the same damn thing. And it sucks. Forget writing late into the night. Working late. Or say dishes. Or even an adult conversation with my husband. Or any conversation. I'm stuck in the bedroom with a child from 8pm until she let's go of my boob. Which tonight was a whole 30 minutes ago. Six hours of non-stop nursing. And let me tell you--this kid doesn't doze off while doing the deed. I've tried every trick in the book and it only leads to more crying and then more nursing.

So here I am. 3am. It's sorta nice. Quiet. But not conducive for the load of laundry I just put in. Or emptying and then re-filling the dishwasher. Sure I did it, but I think I woke The Husband. I can't stop the dishes from banging around. Or the washer from being noisy on spin cycle. But hey, I'm not nursing--and I can't beat that at the moment!

Only in three hours... I just might kill myself. Shower. Conference call. And then, yes, I am heading to the office. Talk about craziness.

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3:01 AM | | 3 comments

If your squeamish about breastmilk (or nursing) turn away now

Wednesday, February 13, 2008 by Bethany

Breast pumps are noisy. They make this whirring noise that is distinctly its own. If you have used a mechanical breast pump, you'll never miss the sound. All that being said, I compelled to share with you my afternoon because... it's my blog and I discuss motherly type things.

It was time to pump. That full feeling was there, and my breasts rock hard (don't believe they get this way? Ask a nursing mom). If I waited any longer I'd either be in more pain or I'd likely leak through my breast pads. Off to the bathroom I went...

Now sure, most corporations (if they are big enough) do have what they term as a lactation room for us nursing moms. The room is usually bare but for a couch and a lock on the door. And for obvious reasons no windows. But in this building? I have no idea where it is, nor do I care to find it. I've been through this before with my son. I just find the nearest bathroom and use the battery adapter for the pump.

And that is where I was--handicap stall, assorted accessories in front of me and pumping. I am not going to explain the whole set up. Just think machine, with funnels attached to breasts and a pump. Is it ingrained in your retina yet? If yes, you've got a pretty close picture to the real deal.

Some women need quiet and a picture of their baby to get the milk flowing. Thank God I do not. If I did, this nursing in a public restroom thing would never work. Ever. At about 2 minutes in, I had two women chatting about their weekend festivities in the stalls next to me. Five minutes in another woman talking on her cell phone and doing her business (yes, the entire time holding a conversation. I still don't know who does that sort of thing). And then there was this last woman. Close to 15 minutes in, when I was so close to done, I was actually watching the action with my finger on the off button just waiting.

"What the hell is that?" she muttered pulling quite aggressively from the paper toilet seat cover container along the wall, "It sounds like a churning heater or something."

She was obviously referring to the breast pump at my feet. The one whir-whirling away, pumping ounce by ounce of milk for my daughter.

At first I thought maybe she was talking with someone who'd walked in with her. But, when she not-so-politely shut the stall door next to me and made more noise than I thought humanly possible getting herself situated on the toilet to take a piss. I realized, she'd posed the question to me. And unknowingly, I ignored her. Or more accurately, I chose not to respond. Who poses questions to stall doors in the restroom?

I just left the pump... um... pumping and waited for her stream to stop. The quick exit to the sink and of course the door falling shut. Then, and only then, did I turn off the breast pump to finish up. God knows, if she would have heard me popping bottle tops and the crinkling of the ice packs to keep the bottles cold--well, there would have been another semi-rhetorical question about my business in the stall.

So for all you women out there--if you hear a whirling sorta sound and a black bag at some women's feet in a stall--just do your business and don't interrupt. Please. It is bad enough we have to lug around this damn machine to pump milk from our breasts on days we want to go out and about. We don't need social commentary about it. I get enough of that when I actually nurse my daughter in public. But that's another post altogether.

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6:29 PM | | 0 comments

Is it me?

Tuesday, January 08, 2008 by Bethany

I can't help but wonder, am I the cause for The Peanuts *gassy* issues? Or say, the issues she has every morning, when she can't... how can I say this... pass a bowel movement? They (as in medical practitioners) say what a mother eats when she is breastfeeding affects the child. If all the grunting and groaning she does from about 6am - 7:30am every morning (without completely waking up) can be addressed, well I'd damn near kill myself trying to stop it too. Because, man, I could sleep for another hour. Every mother can understand that. Right?

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9:12 AM | | 1 comments

Who Knew?

Tuesday, October 16, 2007 by Bethany

It's funny what you notice at 3:30am. When I had my son and was having the middle-of-the-early-early-morning nursing session, I used to sit in the upstairs loft. The view out the window in the old house was over a prairie that had a slight hill, and a great view of the sunrise. I wondered how many hours I logged looking out over that field watching the tall grasses sway and wish for sleep.

Now, I am back at it again. Though the house has changed. And the view. And of course the child. But last night I noticed something. The neighbor kiddie corner across the street. For the fourth night in a row, there is someone watching television at the crazy hour of near 4am.

I live in an older neighborhood. Yes, as in older homes and older tenants. And this particular home definitely has someone in the prime of their life living there. I believe a couple. And I rarely see them. Even in the early evenings, there are no lights in what I assume is the living room.

I've seen a younger couple (my age) enter the house on occasion. Especially in the winter season there is a man who will shovel the walkway. Snow blow the driveway. And almost always carry in a bag or two of groceries. But normal meet-and-greet conversation with the house occupants? Not in the year we've owned this house. And we're around. All the time right now.

But last night (well really early this morning), I saw life. The television flashing through the pulled curtains. A rocking chair. And then a brief walk to another room. Unfortunately, my peeping observations end after that one feeding. By the 5:30am feeding time, the neighbor is gone. Sleeping I would assume. And I am back by myself. Watching the trickle of the early shift traffic (all 2 cars) pass by the house. And the clam movement of our plum tree in the front yard as the sun rises for another day.

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1:59 PM | | 0 comments