Sunday, August 26, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
GB and BB
You know how in movies they use a little devil and angel, sitting picturesquely on the character's shoulders where they act as the person's conscience? Well, I am having a similar experience, only I call them "Good Boob" and "Bad Boob".
Good Boob loves to breast feed, her nipple never gets sore, and she knows she is doing a wonderful thing for her baby. Her little heart melts at 3AM when Nathaniel looks adoringly at me and she smiles when he reaches for my finger to hold. Good Boob always produces milk that results in a big quick burp just by putting Nathaniel in a sitting position and he never throws up the milk and honey that flows from this side. Good Boob molds herself into a pleasing shape so the baby latches on quickly and loves to produce so much milk that she generously fills a bottle when pumped. I like Good Boob.
Bab Boob on the other hand is always cranky and very sore. When it is her turn to nourish, she thinks Similac was the greatest invention ever and the only thing she wants touching her is nipple balm. She is mean and nasty and sometimes wants to pretend that is the cat screaming in the bassinet, not her baby. She makes me be mean to Iain and thinks that the flap on nursing bras should always be left open so she can get a breath of fresh air. Bad Boob on purpose gets hard and refuses to fit easily into Nathaniel's mouth therefore causing him to attack like a piranha, making Bad Boob even more cantankerous. Bad Boob hates to give up more than one drop of milk unnecessarily, and can sense the second I put the breast pump together and refuses to let her milk down. Sometimes Bad Boob tricks the baby into thinking he is full after 10 minutes of drinking so that in half an hour Good Boob has to finish up the job properly.
I think I may have more in common with Bad Boob than I want to admit. And to be honest, I am never quite sure who I honestly want to win the argument, but Good Boob has been winning out.
Ahhh, breastfeeding...a very emotional event.
Good Boob loves to breast feed, her nipple never gets sore, and she knows she is doing a wonderful thing for her baby. Her little heart melts at 3AM when Nathaniel looks adoringly at me and she smiles when he reaches for my finger to hold. Good Boob always produces milk that results in a big quick burp just by putting Nathaniel in a sitting position and he never throws up the milk and honey that flows from this side. Good Boob molds herself into a pleasing shape so the baby latches on quickly and loves to produce so much milk that she generously fills a bottle when pumped. I like Good Boob.
Bab Boob on the other hand is always cranky and very sore. When it is her turn to nourish, she thinks Similac was the greatest invention ever and the only thing she wants touching her is nipple balm. She is mean and nasty and sometimes wants to pretend that is the cat screaming in the bassinet, not her baby. She makes me be mean to Iain and thinks that the flap on nursing bras should always be left open so she can get a breath of fresh air. Bad Boob on purpose gets hard and refuses to fit easily into Nathaniel's mouth therefore causing him to attack like a piranha, making Bad Boob even more cantankerous. Bad Boob hates to give up more than one drop of milk unnecessarily, and can sense the second I put the breast pump together and refuses to let her milk down. Sometimes Bad Boob tricks the baby into thinking he is full after 10 minutes of drinking so that in half an hour Good Boob has to finish up the job properly.
I think I may have more in common with Bad Boob than I want to admit. And to be honest, I am never quite sure who I honestly want to win the argument, but Good Boob has been winning out.
Ahhh, breastfeeding...a very emotional event.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Shit Stain
A couple of days ago, Iain and I had both reached the point of exhaustion at roughly the same time, which is not a good thing, and Nathaniel had reached his point of extreme irritability. Things were a bit tense. I was tired and decided to change the baby on the bed, not thinking to put something under his butt. As I took off his diaper, he decided to let loose a fine spray of shit that covered the corner of our bed. Just what we felt like doing, changing the sheets.
So, I went and layed down on the spare bed to feed him while Iain took care of the mess. Don't ask me why I did this, mental strain or left over morphine from the operation, but I decided to change him on this bed without a change pad underneath him-I guess I was thinking, what were the chances of it happening again. Apparently the odds were not in my favour. Once again, he greets me with a blast from his bowels, only this time it soaks all into the mattress. Yes, I was a bit scared to tell Iain. Yes, he was slightly furious.
Iain cleaned the bed and then had to dry it and make this bed up because my Mom was coming to spend the night (my Dad is in the hospital in Oromocto) and I decided that perhaps it was best for me to take the baby and hide quietly somewhere in the house until Hurricane Iain blew over.
Iain took the time to point out to me that there is a change table both upstairs and downstairs and that it would be beneficial for the mental (and probably physical health of me) health of both of us to actually use them.
I couldn't agree more.
So, I went and layed down on the spare bed to feed him while Iain took care of the mess. Don't ask me why I did this, mental strain or left over morphine from the operation, but I decided to change him on this bed without a change pad underneath him-I guess I was thinking, what were the chances of it happening again. Apparently the odds were not in my favour. Once again, he greets me with a blast from his bowels, only this time it soaks all into the mattress. Yes, I was a bit scared to tell Iain. Yes, he was slightly furious.
Iain cleaned the bed and then had to dry it and make this bed up because my Mom was coming to spend the night (my Dad is in the hospital in Oromocto) and I decided that perhaps it was best for me to take the baby and hide quietly somewhere in the house until Hurricane Iain blew over.
Iain took the time to point out to me that there is a change table both upstairs and downstairs and that it would be beneficial for the mental (and probably physical health of me) health of both of us to actually use them.
I couldn't agree more.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Communication Breakdown
Just to let you know, our phone is now up and running, with the same phone number. Don't ever call Rogers and ask for a price!!!
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