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.