This weekend I got my hair highlighted like a real live person. And I managed to put on a pair of real live pre-pregnancy jeans. (Just one pair, mysteriously. The rest of my jeans? Oh, we shan't speak of them yet.) Other Completely Awesome Things I Did This Weekend: 1) I thought VERY SERIOUSLY about getting a pedicure. 2) I went out for dinner sans baby (thank you, Jason's mom) and ate oysters. Glorious, dangerous oysters! 3) I sat around while my mother-in-law CLEANED MY ENTIRE HOUSE. TWICE. 4) I got projectile pooped on at 5 a.m. two mornings IN A ROW, which I am calling awesome only because honestly, it was some IMPRESSIVE POOPING. Although afterwards I kind of sat there and wondered if any bars were open that early in the morning. 5) I sobbed hysterically after reading "The Giving Tree" (Thank you, Kirsten! A thank-you note will be sent out sometime this century, I swear) out loud to Noah, because I just realized THAT I AM THE TREE and this child is going to strip me bare and yank out big portions of my heart when he grows up and moves away and I WILL BE THE... Read more →

So. The Great Nursing Strike of 2005 is over. I reached my breaking point yesterday and decided that I? Was quitting the breastfeeding thing. Ding! I'm done, crack open the Similac and let's all toast to Modern Engineered Nutrition. But I didn't have any clean bottles. So I popped everything in the sterilizer and stuck it in the microwave. But I didn't feel like listening to Noah scream for four whole minutes. So I popped open my shirt and stuck him on the boob. FORTY MINUTES LATER, I burped him and put him in his crib. FORTY MINUTES. OF PURE, UNADULTERATED NURSING ACTION. He had his one-month physical today and weighs 10 pounds, 10 ounces. He's gained a full inch in length. He peed on Lactation Consultant v.1.0 and nursed for 20 minutes right in the exam room just to make me sound insane when I tried to convince her that seriously, this child REFUSED TO EAT FOR DAYS AND DAMN NEAR SCARED ME TO DEATH. Sidenote: I actually kind of like Lactation Consultant v.1.0 now, since I have mastered the secret Zen art of the "Smile and Nod" whenever she starts going on and on about something that a... Read more →

(I'm finally working on The Birth Story, Part Two. But first, one last boob-related tantrum.) (Last. Haaaaaaaaa.) My mom was a witness to the Great Nursing Downward Spiral last week. She watched Noah go from eating like a champ on a regular basis to being a fussy, distracted eater who would only nurse for a few minutes before pulling away in either red-faced fury or complete boredom. So we talked about breastfeeding. A lot. When my oldest brother was born, in the 60s, no one breastfed. It was barbaric. It was Third World. It Was Not Done. Formula was the Modern Civilized Way and produced Super-Brained Babies of the Future. So when my mom decided to breastfeed, she had zero support or instruction. Not surprisingly, it didn't work out. My brother didn't latch correctly and lost weight. My mom was shocked by how much it HURT and developed mastitis. Her pediatrician yelled at her for starving her baby and berated her until she gave up and switched to formula. She didn't even try to breastfeed her next two babies. By the time I came along, it was 70s, and the tide had turned. La Leche League was around and breastfeeding... Read more →

Today I am on my own. Just me, the baby, the cat and the busted-up dog. Oh, and the kitchen contractor guy, who is here to finally (FI. NAL. LY.) finish our goddamn kitchen. I have no idea what I'm doing all of a sudden. Noah cries and I just stare at him like, "You're going to have to give me more information, because I have no idea what you want and the more you cry the more I can sense the judgement of the kitchen contractor guy because I CANNOT GET YOU TO SHUT UP." THESE ARE ALL THE PARENTING TRICKS I KNOW HOW TO DO: 1) Pick him up. 2) Offer boob. 3) Offer other boob, because hooray! There are two! 4) Change diaper, get peed and/or pooped on, stay cool about it. 5) Swaddle. 6) Walk in circles. 7) Walk in zig-zags. 8) Reason with child in a soothing, high-pitched voice. 9) Dump child in swing. 10) Shove pacifier in mouth. Let's just say I spend a lot of time replacing the batteries in the swing and even more time reinserting the lost pacifier into his mouth. Rinse, repeat, life goes on. I am proud of the... Read more →

No hangover today. But I do have a child who officially hates my boobs with all the passion and fury in the world. The hatred has been building for a few days, and is now at a fever pitch of screeeaming rage and anger. We also have the return of the crunchy toast point nipples from my dogged determination to NOT LET THIS CHILD REJECT MY BREASTS AT THREE WEEKS OLD AFTER ALL THAT PUMPING AND FENUGREEK GODDAMMIT. He appears to have made his choice. Fuck you, Dr. Brown. I think a pounding headache would hurt less than this. Read more →

Drunk! Yes! Am a little drunk. Is fabulouss. Mom was all, "Go out! Go have fun! Leave Baby with me!" And while I was a little afraid she might devour his whole delicious self while we were gone, we went out to have fun. We went to dinner and had much wine, thanks to my friend the breast pump, about which I probably told more members of the waitstaff than were really necessary, but you know, I didn't want to be Judged. (They totally did not care that I am doing the Right Thing by breastfeeding but were only happy to see that I was doing my share to pad the check once again.) I wore Actual Clothes that sort of fit and also? Verry high heels. Stilettos! For the first time in ages. Shit, those bitches HURT. How did I wear them every damn day? Oh yes. Wine. Because of the wine. Oh! I took Noah to my office today to show him off to everybody, and he rose to the occasion by screaming his fool head off the entire time and then he peed on my coworker's carpet. Now he is sleeping. And adorable. And I missed him... Read more →

So yes, I suck with the updating all of a sudden. I tease you all by being all diligent and posting every day for awhile, and then my mom shows up to wait on me hand and foot and I decide that napping is much more fun than talking to InternetLand. Well, it IS more fun. I'm sorry, but I'm tired. I even started an entry about just how tired I am the other day, but it mostly went like this: I am really tired. The end. I also started an entry about the post office, but I never actually made it to the post office. I had some packages to mail to Zoot and started to walk to the post office, but the post office was ACROSS THE STREET and there was a FedEx store on the side of the street I was walking on and so I decided to FedEx the packages instead and nothing interesting happened at the FedEx store. Except possibly the realization that no one holds the door open for me anymore, even if I'm laden with packages and a stroller and a newborn and still kind of look pregnant. Not pregnant enough, apparently. Fucking... Read more →

My mom would like everybody to know that I am an awesome mom and very calm, in control and totally not fucking up at all. Except for my tendency to let the baby go sockless. But that's why she's here -- to protect my son's toes from my negligence. Also to walk and cuddle my poor busted-up dog, help with laundry, make coffee and take out the trash. And this morning she changed the cat's litter box and I did not protest at all. Because it really smelled bad. Yes, this is the same mother who just had a mastectomy and kicked breast cancer's ass just two months ago. I have a wee incision on my belly and am all, "Waaaaaahhhhh, bring me cookies." I wrote two sentences of the Birth Story, Part Two and then fell asleep, because the child has hit some kind of growth spurt and is eating every five minutes and gets hysterical if he isn't eating the instant he wants to eat and will even get hysterical WHILE HE IS EATING because he'll pause to like, breathe and then freak out because WHY ISN'T HE EATING? ARE YOU TRYING TO TAKE MY FOOD AWAY? AAAAAHHHHHHEEEEIIIIIIII... Read more →

Dear Noah, I'm really, really sorry about the Indian food. I ate seventy metric tons of curry while I was pregnant, so I figured it would be okay now. But we'll just consider last night's projectile spit-up-a-thon a lesson learned and never speak of it again. Love, Mama P.S. Just so we're clear, I did not actually feed the baby Indian food. I ate it, nursed him, chaos and horror ensued. I am clarifying this point because of the disturbing number of readers who misinterpreted my orange juice comment as me actually feeding my two-week-old baby orange juice, which PEOPLE, COME ON. P.P.S. My mom is coming to stay with us this week, though, so you can all rest assured that she will stop me from doing anything breathtakingly stupid, like giving the baby beer or drugs or pudding. Read more →

SOME RANDOM SEMI-RELATED THOUGHTS AND MILESTONES WITH NO NARRATIVE STRUCTURE WHATSOEVER, JUST BECAUSE I AM DETERMINED NOT TO WRITE ONE OF THOSE "DEAR BABY" LETTERS THAT EVERBODY ON EARTH DOES. Two weeks ago today, I had a baby. We named him Noah because we liked it, and as Diana pointed out, the only Noahs most people know are "the Bible guy and Hot Doctor Carter." His middle name, Corbin, is the Latin version of my maiden name. It was Jason's top choice for a first name -- a choice I vetoed strongly because of Corbin Bernsen and also because I suspected Jason really liked it because The Fifth Element is one of his favorite movies, the big adorable nerd. Noah has sandy brown hair that's getting lighter and blonder by the day. His eye color continues to be a mystery. He has a very pronounced overbite that he got from me. I'm sorry. I'm living proof that it can be fixed by middle school, however, so that's a plus. He has a very deep dimple on his left cheek. His umbilical stump fell off too soon and had to be cauterized. It's still icky but it looks like a nice... Read more →