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Go Nigel, Go!
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Would You Like To Buy My Monkeys?
Jun
9
I’m In Love And It’s A Sunny Day
by Leslie
My baby is almost two months old.
I call her Lucy Sunshine. (Actually, I sing it. Think Good Day Sunshine by The Beatles. Then, replace “Good Day” with “Lucy” and you’ve got it.)
She’s starting to smile, mostly at her Daddy.
The smiles I am responsible for occur mainly while she is sleeping off her milk buzz.
Generally, this is the look I get:
Probably because I spend a lot of time looking like this:
May
10
Down With The Sickness
by Leslie
It all started with Julia catching a cold. I’m not sure how she caught it - kids catch colds, yo - but I’d been trying to convince her that it was because she picks her nose so much. Cure the cold, cure the nosepicking. Two birds, one stone. That’s what I was thinking. Anyhow, she got it first.
A few days later, Dave had it.
By Wednesday afternoon, I had it.
And by Thursday, my three week old baby had it and I officially became THE WORST MOTHER KNOWN TO MAN. Not only did I allow my newborn baby to get sick, I GAVE IT TO HER.
It really was inevitable. She spends 89.6% of her time within two feet of my face - the place with three germ spewing holes. The good news is, I also have these amazing breasts that produce extra-super-fantastic-miracle milk. So, we settled into bed for a nursing marathon, hoping that the power of the boob would prevail over the sickness.
By Friday, the sickness had come on full force and I was miserable. Lucy was congested. Julia was all better and completely bored with being stuck at home with sick people. Dave was making requests for me to get some of his jeans in the laundry and, well, let’s just put it in the form of an equation in which BP = Bored Preschooler, IH = Insensitive Husband, SM = Sick Mommy and CB = Congested Baby:
I spent the next twelve hours doing everything I possibly could to make Lucy feel comfortable. In between feedings, I administered saline drops. I held her in the shower with some Shower Soothers. I ran the vaporizor. And I woke up this morning with a pulled muscle in my back from holding her in crazy positions that opened up her nasal passages and allowed her to sleep.
She seems to be feeling better. Her congestion has cleared up enough to allow her to sleep soundly next to me as I type to you. And the fact that I’m blogging right now rather than sleeping could mean that I am A) crazy or B) a genius who has figured out how to survive without sleep altogether!
May
4
There Were Never Such Devoted Sisters
by Leslie
Julia calls her “my baby.” If Lucy makes a sound, she comes running from wherever she is calling, “My baby needs me!” She helps with the diaper changes and baths. She speaks to her softly and touches her so gently. Her face lights up when their eyes meet and she says, “She sees me!” I expected her to be jealous or feel threatened. If anything, the birth of her sister has made her more loving and confident. The role of big sister fits Julia perfectly. And all that worrying I did during my pregnancy is slowly being erased with each declaration of, “I love my baby sister. She’s the best baby in the world.”
Apr
28
Venturing Out
by Leslie
I had my first day out with both of my girls on Saturday. We went to Julia’s practice dance recital at a local nursing home.
It took us three hours to get ready. We were twenty minutes late (but that was mostly because we had to turn back once we were on the road to drop off my asshole cat Jasper who stowed away in the van while we were loading up).
Julia was beautiful and brilliant, as usual. Lucy slept through the whole thing. And I sported my post c-section Mommy Pouch, because there ain’t no covering that thing up.
Apr
24
My Little Lucy
by Leslie
a.k.a. Squishy McMashy Cheeks.
Seriously, don’t you just want to nibble all over them?
Apr
20
Just Some Advice
by Leslie
If, on your second day home from the hospital after having a c-section, you are feeling really, really good and a little voice in your head says, “Pain killers, schmain killers. Who needs those?” and tries to convince you to stop taking them, DO NOT LISTEN. Because that voice is evil.
You see, pain killers are kind of useful. They do this thing where they kill the pain you’re feeling. Sometimes they are so good at it, your body forgets it’s even having pain, then has stupid ideas like skipping on the pain killers. And cleaning. And carrying stuff up the stairs. Then, the next day you wake up with gut-wrenching pain and you roll from side to side like a turtle on its back because you just can’t seem to bend enough to get out of bed and your husband stands there holding your newborn child saying, “Told ya so.”
So, I’m back on the pain killers and plan to take advantage of the time off the rest of my remaining guest bloggers are providing me. (Thanks you guys!)
Meanwhile, there’s this:
There wasn’t quite enough room in his lap for me.
Apr
19
We enjoyed our first night home from the hospital last night. Longest stretch of consecutive minutes slept: 38. Also, my milk has come in. So, I hope you’ll excuse my brevity and enjoy the photos.
Mar
18
A few weeks ago, I asked my doctor if there was any chance that I’d get to have another ultrasound before Lucy’s birth. She said, “It isn’t likely. Your pregnancy is going along wonderfully. We will only do another one if it is medically necessary.”
At my last baby appointment, I asked my doctor to expound upon the phrase “medically necessary.” She talked about “risk” and “problems.” And I said, “So what if my problem is that my husband’s life is at risk if I don’t get another ultrasound to double check the gender of this child?” She laughed. I didn’t.
When we were told that we were having a girl at my 20 week ultrasound, we accepted it as fact. The ultrasound technician said she was certain it was a girl and I saw proof of that with my very own eyes. From that point forward, we called our unborn child by the name we’d chosen should she be a girl: Lucy. We purchased little girl clothes. When people asked what we were having, we said proudly and unwaveringly: “It’s a girl.”
Then, I added Lucy’s name to the growth chart on the wall in her bedroom. With paint. And Dave FREAKED.OUT. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so sure that we were having a girl. He began to ponder the possibility that the ultrasound technician had made a mistake. He expressed concern frequently, claiming I put a jinxy voodoo curse over the whole thing when I painted that name on the wall. Where we used to call our unborn child Lucy, he began to add an “IF it’s a girl.” When people asked what we were having, he’d say: “We think it’s a girl.”
At first, I brushed it off. “I am having a girl,” I’d tell myself. I saw her girl parts on that ultrasound screen with my very own eyes. I AM HAVING A GIRL!
But then, those little whispers of uncertainty would swirl around my head. And when I had to pick out the travel system, I went with a neutral color rather than the brown and pink cherry blossom pattern I loved. I told myself it was just in case we had another child and that child was a boy. I explained to myself that I was thinking ahead when really, I was being hypnotized by Dave’s speculativeness.
I realized I was under his spell of dubiety today when I set out to purchase the outfit my baby will wear home from the hopsital and I chose something gender neutral. Just to be sure.
And so, I made a plan: When I go to the doctor later this week, I’m going to bring up the ultrasound and how I need one. Again. I am going to tell her that I will go batshit crazy insane if I don’t get one to make sure there’s really a girl in there, so I figure we can do one of three things: we can give me an ultrasound, do another ultrasound or have just one more ultrasound.
When I shared this plan with Dave and asked him to back me up at the appointment - because I know he is just as unsure as I am - he said, “I’m not worried so much that it’s a boy. I just think there are two in there.”
Sometimes husbands just shouldn’t speak.
Mar
16
30 Days To Go
by Leslie
Jan
24
My Belly Is So Big…
by Leslie
…that while playing Barbie dolls with Julia, she actually suggested that it could be the Earth and the dolls could live on it.
My belly has been compared to a planet.
I’m not sure it’s EARTH-size. I think it’s more like Pluto. Oh, wait! Pluto isn’t a planet. That’s my belly.
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I Write A Haiku Each Day
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Categories
- Daily Haiku
- Mommy’s Stuff
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You Should Do This
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Ooooooh. Aaaaah.
