Mum-Mum

Ruby's been boycotting her milk the past couple of days. I don't know why.

She's been on formula for two weeks now without incident, so I don't think it's the switch from breastmilk. She whines a lot and gives me signals like she's hungry (she even recently started signing "milk" although she doesn't quite have it totally figured out yet), but then when presented with a bottle she gags on it and gives me a dirty look - even before the milk hits her tongue. Sometimes she'll drink a half bottle and then be done with the whole thing.

She's been getting better at eating solids - she LOVES carrots, and is starting to enjoy bananas mixed in with her rice cereal in the morning. As long as the food is fairly thin, and warm - she's willing to give it a shot.

I knew that eating solids would change her milk schedule - I expected that. But I didn't expect it to get so erratic. And for her to be so fussy and fickle about her bottles.

I try not to worry too much about it. I figure she knows what she wants and I'm just her slave, to present her with whatever I think she wants and hope for the best. (There has been a lot of formula dumped down my sink lately).

Admittedly, it bothers me that I seem to be misreading her ques lately though. I had gotten pretty darn good at knowing what she wants. I know when she wants milk, when she wants naps, when she wants extra attention, when she wants to chill out. But lately it seems all mixed up and I'm not getting it. It frustrates me. I have a neurotic need to be good (or better yet, perfect) at everything I do - so I hate that I seem to be misunderstanding her right now.

I know this probably wasn't the right thing to do - but after she refused a bottle today but was still acting hungry - I put her in her highchair and gave her her first Mum-mum. When all else fails, cookies are the answer - are they not? They are in my world...

"What do you do all day?"

Nothing gets under my skin like those six words. Those words make me want to cut a bitch.

When I am asked that question, the hair goes up on my back and I instantly feel defensive. I always scramble through my thoughts, grasping for the right words to try to properly convey how much I actually do during the day, and also let the person know, subtly, how inappropriate that question really is. I don't know that I have ever really gotten it right because I'm always so flustered and taken off guard when I hear those words.

I understand that some people are not in tune with my world and can't imagine filling a day if not under the structured regime of the workday, but some people? Some people should just know better.

My HUSBAND should know better...

This morning Steve agreed to care for Ruby while I got ready and went for a jog before he went to work (yay me!). He had her on the couch and was just starting to give her a bottle when he asked me to turn on the TV for him.

I said: I'd really rather the TV not be on all the time. Ruby doesn't need it.

He said: Well I'd like to watch the news.

I said: Ok, fine. But afterwards I'm shutting it off. It doesn't need to be on all day. There's nothing on during the day that I need to see, it's just a distraction. I just don't want Ruby to grow up being *addicted to it.

He said: You don't watch TV? What do you do all day then?


SNA-AP!!!

This from a man who comes home on his lunch break to have lunch ready and waiting for him (I'm actually a little embarrassed about that). He comes home after work to his dinner usually ready to eat, and if not then at least prepared and ready to go or in the process of cooking. The floors are clean (although he wouldn't notice). The house is clean. The baby is fed and happy and clean. There is food in the fridge. He gets to walk in, have a shower, sit down to dinner, then put his feet up and WATCH TV.

So I get all prickly and pissed off about his comment and he claims I took it the wrong way.

Actually, no I didn't. I KNOW how he meant it. He cannot imagine a whole day at home without at least 75% of it being spent glued to the TV on some stupid fucking sports show. He would NEVER think to wipe the spilled milk off the coffee table, or prepare dinner ahead of time. He doesn't see the dust on the shelves and he doesn't see the dirt on the floor (which he tracked in because he didn't take his shoes off). He thinks that food magically appears in the fridge and he would never think of walking to the store to pick up needed items. Hell, he wouldn't think of walking anywhere unless maybe it was through 18 holes with a golf bag over his shoulder. And as for caring for Ruby.... he thinks it's ok to plunk her down in front of the TV for as long as he feels like it.

So I didn't take his comment the wrong way. I know what he was thinking. It still pisses me off.

And I still want to cut a bitch.

Hey, at least he gave me some fuel to burn up during my jog.


*I'm not against the TV totally. I just don't think we need it on ALL DAY. Ruby is already mesmerized by it and I'd rather she did other things when possible.

She made other plans

We're doing a family BBQ this afternoon/evening for Fathers Day. My parents were coming out to visit Ruby anyways so I figured we might as well invite my brother and his little family and call it Fathers Day. That way Steve and I can do our own thing tomorrow with a clear conscience.

This morning, I talked Steve into walking to work so that I would have the car to run errands. I planned on getting Ruby up, feeding her, giving her a bath, getting her dressed, heading out to the mall (to take advantage of a sale at Old Navy), pick up some grub for the BBQ and then be home and be ready for everyone to get here by about noon or 1pm, at the latest.

However. It's now 11:19am and Ruby hasn't had a bath and we haven't left the house because Ruby apparently made other plans for today:

So I'm just trying to roll with it. I wasn't sure what we'd have for dinner anyways so now I have time to browse my cookbooks...

And then I hit the wall

Do you ever feel really vulnerable?

I do.

Today I really do.

I've been relatively strong and confident since Ruby was born but once in a while I feel like my feet have been kicked out from under me.

Today started ok enough. Except that I found it hard to wake up, but that's been a lot lately.

Then I had a scare with Ruby. I don't really want to get into details about it here, but I thought something was really wrong with her and I was on my way out the door to the walk-in clinic when I checked her again and it was totally gone. I've checked her about 15 times since and the problem is totally gone like it was never there. But it scared me enough that I panicked and cried for a good hour - even after I realized it was ok.

And then my BIL's girlfriend was kind of mean to me. Well, maybe she wasn't so much "mean" as she was busy with her own life and didn't respond well to an email that I sent to her and my feelings got hurt. Right after the Ruby thing.

And then Ruby and I went for a walk and people were staring at me. People were giving me scowly looks. People were watching me too closely.

Except that they really probably weren't. I know I was (am) in one of those vulnerable-feeling moods and everything was (is) bothering me. I felt like I was walking down the street naked, maybe with a piece of toilet paper hanging from my bum. That's how I felt.

Sometimes when you're at home all day with the baby and you get worried about something or something happens or you don't feel right, it can get really lonely. Everyone in the world is busy doing their own thing and it can feel like you're all alone and nobody cares. Or is that just me?

AF is due anytime and my chest is still prickly with milk - both of which might cause one to be somewhat "emotional". But together? Double whammy.

I knew the whole Superwoman/Martha Stewart/Suzy Homemaker thing couldn't last forever.

No really...

Today Ruby "graduates" from Babydaze - our Mommy/Baby group. They have a little graduation party for them today. There will be food and drinks and cake. They get little graduation certificates.


And I... made her this:

I made her friend Ariyan one too. In a different color.

I've scared myself, really. Who knew that I could whip up a couple of little grad hats out of nothing more than a cardboard box, a receiving blanket, some embroidery thread and a hot glue gun. And all before 11am? This shit could easily get out of hand. I could lose myself completely and turn into one of those annoying Suzy Homemaker bitches that nobody likes.

Cupcakes anyone?

Wait a minute, I'm still in my pyjamas and haven't brushed my teeth yet. *phew* That must count for something...

I might need a hobby...

Since the breastpump made it's exit from my life... things have indeed improved.

But first I suffered. I spent Friday and the weekend hurting like a bastard with rock hard, engorged boobs. The whole cabbage thing didn't work out for me because the stank of it made me gag at myself. I felt like my boobs had been in a car accident. They were so sore, it hurt to walk. I did pump off tiny little bits when I absolutely needed it and that really helped. Friday was a particularly low day as I wasn't sure how this whole thing worked and I was emotional and sore and, well the tears were flowing freely. I did consult with a nurse on the Nurse Hotline and found her to be extremely compassionate, and kind and intelligent. She helped me get through. Things slowly (soooo slowly) improved from there and every day is a little bit better.

I am still a tiny bit sore but nothing I can't handle. The pump is now gone for good. And today? Today was my first real, normal day and it's been fabulous so far.

I had NO idea really, how much time and energy that whole process was taking out of me. I feel like a fucking rockstar today.

I have:
~Made breakfast
~Made lunch
~Prepared dinner
~Emptied, reloaded, ran, and emptied the dishwasher
~Cleaned/tidied house
~Washed and put away all laundry (just TRY and find a pair of dirty undies on my floor!)
~Cleaned and organized my office
~Made snacks for Ruby's "graduation" from the mommy/baby group tomorrow
~Went for a walk
~Got groceries
~Blogged
~Facebooked
~Twittered
~Played with and thoroughly enjoyed Ruby all day
~I even had time to be pleasant to Steve when he came home at lunch!

Sure, this may be a normal day for some of you, but this is a BIG day for me. This is a lot of accomplishments that wouldn't have all be done had I been hooked up to the pump and washing pump parts all day.

I still struggle a bit with the guilt of giving her formula but if this keeps up, the guilt should pass fairly quickly.

The end of an era...

Yesterday I pumped for the final time at 3pm. And I cried myself to sleep last night. Not because of the discomfort of full, rock-hard breasts (that didn't really happen until about 3am). But because of the finality of all. And because there is something about watching my baby eagerly drink back a bottle of breastmilk that came straight from me, that makes me feel really close to her. Our own special little bond. I can't help but feel like formula is just "food", and my milk was more than that.

But like "Operation:Overnighter", just because it's difficult doesn't mean it's the wrong thing to do. Just because it's difficult doesn't mean that I should put it off. It's simply time. The toll that that pump is taking on my life and my family is something that I'm not willing to compromise with anymore. I know that weaning would be hard at ANY age. If I had $110 extra dollars I would go visit my therapist and I am quite certain she would confirm that I am doing the right thing and then she would give me a good dose of tough love and make me snap out of this guilt bullshit. But since I don't have the $110 dollars, I'm just going to have to fight the fight on my own (and perhaps with a little help from my dear internets).

I'm sure however, that a couple of days of being pump free will do wonders in the mood lifting department. In fact, it's not been 24 hours yet and although my chest feels like someone sewed two giant boulders under my skin and then held them over an open flame for a couple of hours, the break from pumping is already making me feel happier.

I've been giving Ruby supplemented formula feedings for a couple of days now and it's going well. We're up to 50/50 with no problems. (I still have plenty in the fridge and freezer if I need it). Her appetite seems to have changed a little though - she doesn't always finish her bottles and I wonder if that's because there's more calories in the formula and she gets fuller faster. I'd like to go with that train of thought instead of my Crazy Mommy Guilt train of thought which says she isn't finishing it (occasionally) because she doesn't like it.

My worries were somewhat abated by Steve last night. He fed her at 4am and through the baby monitor I could hear him softly chanting, "Rob-erts! Rob-erts! Rob-erts!" When he came out of her room with an empty bottle I anxiously asked, "Did she take it ok!? Did she finish the bottle?!!??"

He said, "Did she finish the bottle??? Tara, she chugged it!!! She's going to be a big hit one day at Spring Break!"