making friends wherever i go
{ Monthly Archives }
So big.
Hating tummy time.
Taking a nap in his new bed.
Playing at this stage in his development involves staring, cooing and flailing about.
His nightgown clearly identifies him as a baby. This was the best picture I could get of a smile. He stubbornly refuses to smile for the camera, although he will smile for me.
Anonymous said…
What’s your plan for the 25 pounds?
Anonymous, yet again, I can’t decide if it’s a valid question or if you’re just being a big jerk and rubbing it in my face.
I’m only 7 weeks post partum, for chrissakes, give a girl a break. I don’t have a plan. I’ll lose it the same way I always lose weight, by eating normally and exercising.
I got the okay to go to the gym 2 weeks ago and I’ve been going for long walks since the Fiendling was 2 weeks old. My neighborhood kicks ass for walking uphill. I could skip the gym and still lose weight by walking down to Main Street then walking up to Ridge on Green Lane with its 12% grade.
Since Monday I’ve gone to the gym twice. Once I did 30 minutes of cardio and lifted upper body, the second time I did 25 minutes of cardio and lifted lower body. Today I went to Mommy and Me yoga for an hour and a half. Every day I’ve taken a 2 or more mile walk with the Fiendling in his stroller, and at least one of those miles has been uphill.
Sure I’ve stopped for a free cone at Ben and Jerry’s, split a doughnut and a piece of raspberry cake with Boyfiend at the Italian bakery, and eaten a Mango gelati from Nevaeh’s this week, but I’ve also eaten plenty of veggies and fruit. It all balances out.
So the weight will come off when its ready. Everything I’ve read says the weight loss benefits from breastfeeding kick in after 3 months. I still have more than 5 weeks before I get there. By September I’ll be within 8 pounds of my pre-pregnancy weight and I’ll fit into most of my pants. By next March I’ll fit into all of my pants. And then Boyfiend will start harassing me to have another one, and if I agree the cycle will start again.
Good news: I’ve lost more than half of my baby weight. I can button one pair of very, very low rise jeans.
Bad news: I still have 25 pounds to lose. My belly hangs over the button of the very, very low rise jeans.
Speaking of losing it, some of the white trash mamas on my message board have been desperately screwing their boyfriends, trying to keep them from leaving them and their “withdrawal babies” since they were in the recovery room at the hospital and say their hoping they’re not pregnant again. Others are waiting until their new IUDs are successfully installed. For all you mothers, fathers and pregnant people out there, how long did you wait, or how long do you think you’ll wait to reconvene the procedure?
Based on the comments from yesterday’s post I realize I should have explained more.
Now I feel better. Thanks for the encouragement, but I was just tired and thinking about stupid baby sleep books.
Oh my god, I am so, so tired. The Fiendling, all wound up after Junkiegirl and Todd’s wedding, slept until nearly 2 yesterday afternoon then decided he was too upset to sleep much last night. He kept waking himself up as soon as I thought he was out. At 11.30 I decided to let Boyfiend get some sleep, so I took him into the parlor and bounced him on the exercise ball for an hour until he finally stopped shrieking and passed out. Of course once I got him into his crib he woke up an hour later hungry. Then he woke up hungry two hours after that. Then two hours after that. Then two hours after that. Now he’s napping in his swing, but judging by the noises I hear, I don’t think he’ll be asleep for too much longer.
I guess I shouldn’t complain. Last night’s shenanigans were very unlike my little Fiendling. Most nights he sleeps for a good four hour stretch, wakes up hungry, then goes back to sleep for another three to four hours. Ordinarily I’m quite well-rested, but today- not so much.
Sleep is such a complicated issue. On one side you have Dr. Sears telling you to sleep with your baby in your bed until they’re old enough to sleep with their boyfriend or girlfriend. On the other end of the spectrum you have Ferber who tells you to let your baby scream himself to sleep. The Fiendling sleeps in our room in a little pack and play bassinet thing. Sometimes after eating, and most mornings he sleeps in bed with us. It’s sort of terrifying. Aside from Sears and his nighttime parenting, everyone seems to think your baby will die if they sleep in bed with you. You’ll either roll over on them and smother them or they’ll suffocate in your pillows and blankets. But then you hear that babies who sleep in close proximity to their parents are less likely to die from SIDS. Babies who hear their parents breathing are more likely to rouse themselves from episodes of sleep apnea. Then that Baby Whispering bitch tells me that my baby is manipulating me into letting him sleep in my room. She seems to think that babies need to be taught independence from birth and it’s not respectful to let him sleep with us. I don’t want to be manipulated by a 6 week old, but I certainly don’t want that limey whore telling me what to do.
The truth is that I’m terrified of SIDS and don’t think I’m ready for the Fiendling to sleep in the room next door. I’m also incredibly lazy and love my sleep and I sure as hell don’t want to have to go very far to feed him in the middle of the night. The Fiendling’s crib is supposed to be delivered and assembled in his room tomorrow. I know I’m not ready for him to sleep there yet. It seems so far away, and I’d hate it if he was crying and I didn’t hear him.
I have one friend whose baby at 11 months old still sleeps with her. I know others whose babies slept in their own cribs from day one. I guess we’re somewhere in the middle? I have so much more to say about all of this, but right now it just seems so complicated, especially since I’m so tired.
Good News: A new water ice, ice cream, gelati place opened around the corner, which pleases me immensely as the other water ice, ice cream, gelati places are all far enough away that it counts as a workout, not a summer evening stroll.
Bad News: They named it Nevaeh’s, which (for those of you who don’t know how much stupid names piss me off) is heaven spelled backward.
Fall in Philadelphia can be lovely. Some years the foliage is gorgeous, and the light on Kelly Drive in the morning makes everything look dreamy, like women in movies from the ’40s.
I hate Philadelphia in the winter. It’s cold, dirty and depressing. Bleak.
Summer in Philadelphia is fine. It’s hot, humid and sticky, which are weather conditions that don’t particularly bother me, especially since we’re so close to the beach.
But spring- spring is beautiful. I’m not so good with the new camera yet, but here’s what’s been popping up in my yard.
I’m pleased to announce the milk issue has been resolved. After meeting with a lactation consultant and after a phone call with a woman from a breastfeeding hotline I figured out where I went wrong. (I also spoke to a woman from the La Leche League. Not helpful.) Basically the Fiendling was going through a growth spurt and eating more often than usual. Because he was eating so often I was making more milk to accomodate him. But then he stopped eating as much and I had extra milk. Excess milk made my breasts hard, lumpy and uncomfortable. I started pumping a bit more to relieve the discomfort. Because I was pumping more I started making even more milk. I was in a bad place. My breasts were enormous and squirting milk all over the place. I got a fever and felt achy and grumpy. The Fiendling couldn’t keep up and was red faced and gassy. I stopped pumping entirely, started block nursing, and now, a week later, things have evened out. I no longer need a bath towel to keep myself and the Fiendling dry when nursing. Yay!
I can’t decide which trend is worse- the poncho or the gaucho.
Remember that horrible Britney statue? Here’s the rear view.
