Feed me I'm Yours

Right when my little sweet baby turned all Hyde on me when he was sprouting teeth, his sleeping patterns got all shot to shit. He has never been a great napper, but night time he is a dream baby. But he started getting up 5 times a night, and unless his momma came to his rescue rocking him for hours straight, then he wouldn't got back to sleep either.

fun shit.

In my delerious state I decided my poor baby was hungry and we must start feeding him cereal to make sure his little belly is full. Like, now. Justin tried to talk me out of it. He wants to admit our baby is growing up even less then I do. But of course I brought home the cereal and threw the camera in his hand and said "Game face on Daddy, it's feeding time.:

Liam at that shit up. He was smiling, laughing, opening his mouth up for more. It was so cute. And that night I laid down dreaming of 3 straight hours of unbroken sleep. Of course he got up 6 times just to fuck with me.

Then two days later his little sharp chicklets shined through and he went back to sleeping like a dream baby.

But naps? They continue to be a joke.

Soo I may have scared you

with my last post. But that wasn't my intention. Remember us mommas like to lure in new recruits with chubby thighs and cute little giggles and then scare the bejeezuz out of you when you are KU and stuck. It is our own little twisted mind fuck. That is how we really have fun. So I thought I'd lure you back to possibly one day procreating with some nummy pics of the dude. Because well, he is awesome.

You know what's hot?

There isn't anything glamorous about pregnancy. In fact people purposely don't tell you about the weird shit that happens to your body until you are in fact knocked up. Then it is no holds barred, they share and share and scare you into some serious hypocondria. I had eleventy different things to ask my doctor every week.

I was lucky that I escaped puking daily (I know you hate me.) But in exchange for that I got me some serious Hobbit feet. They were enormous. Add to that a super sweet cankle and the fact I couldn't reach (or see) my feet and pluck the little toe hairs. Hot.

My husband confessed after they had safely shrunken back to their normal cute selves that he was afraid that the hobbit feet were permanent. He was wise to wait to confess this for sure.

Also, I got PUPPS, which sounds all cute and innocent but is really this fucked up rash that takes over your stretch marks (yep got them too) and are all "fuck you, you have stretch marks and now I am going to make you want to cut you skin off with all this itchingess." I didn't sleep at all the week before Mr. Fantastic was born.

But it isn't all bad. Aside from that fact that you know, you are growing a person, you get awesome hair. Thick, glossy gorgeous hair. I could have been a freaking hair model. Penelope Cruz had nothing on me. I swished back and forth over my shoulders like I used to when I was a kid and I had a high ponytail (you know you did that too.) It.was.awesome.

But of course it was just a dicktease. The other day I started molting. I have handfuls of hair clogging up the drain, clumps being brushed out of my head. Annnnd once again I am a freak. I think my husband is wisely biting his tongue on this one too.

My baby got teeth yo.

Liam is 4 and half months old. The milestones are coming more and more quickly now. Rolling over, grasping things in his hands, giggles, finding out he has feets. It is really a fun time.

Every day he does something a little better or something new. I love every minute of it. I do get a a little sad when he out grows his 3 month clothing and I have to pack them away. But I think I am pretty decent at not getting sad about his rapid growth and learning.

That is until he got teeth. He started teething at 3 months and everyone told me he was too young for teeth. Then when he turned 4 months he got the lump and oralgel and Tylenol became a regular thing. Just yesterday I noticed his lump has turned white and the top of it was sharp.

This sent me into a mild depression. My little nugget is growing.

Speaking of Hygene

It is inevitable that I feel the need to bath on occasion. Well that isn't true, I feel the need to bath frequently, but the stars must aligned for a shower to take place.

When Liam was a newborn I could put him on his bouncy chair and take him into the bathroom and he'd usually sleep. If he didn't, he'd totally just stare into space with his brow furrowed.

Then the bouncy chair was wasn't cool, he was all "this is lame, where are the lights, the noise, the action?" (is it a wonder everyone loves Vegas?)

So we moved on to the play mat. It was awesome. He'd stare into the wide world and hit the crap out of his little dangeling elephant. Then, last week I went into the shower and came out to a scream. I ran wet and nekkid into the bedroom where I was thinking that he was dying. If you asked him he might as well have been. But he wasn't (dying that is.) My clever little child had decided that it was time he rolled over onto his belly and check things out from that perspective. Except, well, he got stuck. He was a little pretzle, tummy on mat, face on mat, shoulder-well that was still facing his side. He was PISSED. Woops. sorry bebe.

Mommy will never shower again.

And I didn't, for a day (or few)

Then I broke down. The looks of disgust from my family did it really.

The next shower attempt I smartened up (ha!) We played all morning (roll over success!) We ate some boob, we got all nice and tuckered out. I put him down for a nap and tip toed downstairs. Drank a cup of much needed caffeine and jumped in the shower.

It was heaven. Hot and steamy and clean. I rinsed lathered and repeated.

ahhh

Then I step out of the shower to hear crying and screaming on the montior. Mr. Nonaps decided sleeping wasn't in the cards. I grabbed a bathrobe this time and ran up to his room to stop the great flood of tears running down his cheeks, his very, very yummy cheeks.

sigh

So now the shower is a luxury. On the weekends Justin askes me if there is anything I need to get done. "Take a shower," is the first thing out of my mouth. And those showers are the ones of dreams,  you know longer then 5 minutes.

 During the week though, I still am playing roulette with my shower time. Shaving? That is an either or thing, the pits or the legs, never both.

That Person

I may or may not have worn a sweatshirt all day Friday that may have been used as a spit up catcher of my little angel baby. It might have stunk like baby vomit that wafted into my face on occasion. I may have ignored it and not changed.

I also may have worn said sweatshirt in public. And my kid might have gotten alot of atterntion, but no one would make eye contact with me.

I have potential to be that person.

You know who I am talking about, Mr. and Mrs. Judgeyson with your clean clothes and higlighted washed hair.

just saying.

Pump pump it up

My child was never teeny tiny. He finally made it into this world via c section, not the birth shoot like I had been trying to push him through for oh, 5 hours. The doctor nicknamed him Moose. Needless to say, he has always been an eater.

We had some fun learning how to throw him on the teet but once he learned, he never wanted to leave.

Now don't let anyone fool you. Breastfeeding hurts.There is cracking, blisters and clogged milk ducts and other weird shit that they gloss over at the hospital. Anyone that tells you it doesn't hurt and is the most natural thing in the world is a damn liar.

Before you know it you are home from the hospital. Your baby won't latch on, he's starving and crying bloody murder. You are crying equally as hard and your husband questions your mental capacity to be alone with HIS child.

ahem.

Anyway, it takes you weeks, no, months to get feeding down. You know when his little anxious whine is a hungry whine and don't wait until you are done doing the dishes to feed him or you will see your baby cry real tears.

But it does get easier. I actually love breastfeeding. Then I had to break the stay at home bubble and go back to work. I have been lucky in that I am back to work part time. I figured I'd pump the days I am back, he'd drink it the next day and all would be glorious and wonderful.

fuck no.

If there is anything more freaky then seeing your cute little nipple getting sucked out 2 inches long in plastic flanges, I don't know what it is. I now know how cows feel.

And your partner watching you pump? Well let's just say however freaked out you may be, he is 100% more freaked out. And he actually listens when you tell him to stop grabbing you tits in passing.

for once.

But again you are doing this for your baby. You beautiful snuggley, smiley baby, who totaly appreciates your boob sacrific. Right?

Right. He starts drinking way more then you can pump. You find yourself pumping on days you are home with him just hoping to squeak out a couple ounces here and there so the babysitter won't yell at you for not giving them enough food for your baby. And your mom guilt takes over and crushes you.

You find yourself wondering why you are trying to keep up with the Moose's appetite?

Then you go to the store and look at the price of formula. Breastfeeding might not be easy, but it sure as shit is cheap.

Man's Best Friend

This is Fenway aka the Beast. He is pretty awesome. I mean aside from the barking and toe chasing, he is great. He loves Liam. He is small and clean, and he is very content to just be a sloth on the couch with Justin and I after a long day. I mean we can walk him in a circle in our back yard and he is good. Hell, he even hates to get wet when it is raining.  He is just about perfect. Except for one small thing. Like Justin said, "His breath smells like fuck."

Music to my Ears

Last night after I got home from work I took my baby upstairs to get ready for bed. His has a pretty fantastic tummy and I just needed to razz it. That lead to a quick game of peek-a-boo. Now I know this is a fun game, we play it regularly, but this time Momma must have been looking particularly asinine. Because then I heard the most magical sound in the world, a belly laugh from my baby.

Now he has laughed once or twice before, kind of a half assed giggle. But this was out and out laughing and he kept on keeping on. I was laughing, he was laughing, it was fabulous. Of course when I got Justin upstairs to witness it, Liam looked at him with the "What Daddy? She is crazy, I am just laying here waiting for my pjs." look.

Little stinker. Let the stalking with our Flip commence.

Much Ado about Nothing

So since I started this blog to documant my pregnancy and birth, then I promptly forgot about it. (Can I still blame pregnancy brain?) I decided in my usual procrastinating fashion to attempt again. Hopefully, I won't suck this time.
I could try to share with you a recap of the past 6 months of eating too much ice cream, stretch marks, back aches and porn boobs. Or I can skip it all and tell you the punch line. I am a momma to a little boy that has cheeks that rock my world. He smiles like his daddy and shrieks like a drunken cockatail.

We live in our bubble in New Hampshire with his daddy and our dog. And since he is rapidly approaching 4 months in age I thought it's be nice to try to get down moments so I don't forget everything in my sleep deprived state.

So I totally will.
tomorrow.