I took a Sick Day

I admit to occasionally being frustrated with the other parental unit in the house. I know, I know, it's hard to believe, but it is true. However, in the last couple of days I have been overwhelmed by what a fabulous husband and father I lucked into. I came home from a monthly girls' dinner on Wednesday and shortly after I laid down I started to feel a little under the weather. Then I noticed a huge painful lump in righty. Since I have been breastfeeding for almost eight months now (wow!), I have had many a lump, but few have been quite so big or painful. I massaged it for a while and I think I was reasonably successful in working out the blockage but the pain continued. As the night wore on I felt worse and worse and at one point I thought I might have food poisoning from my very eclectic dinner choices. Note to self: don't mix fried pickles, ceasar salad, rare ahi, and brussell sprouts (only a taste...and yuck). That might have explained the nausea but not the fever, aches and general malaise that had settled in. I spent the whole night tossing and turning, piling clothes on and then stripping them off, as I went from hot to cold and back again.

By morning I was in pretty bad shape, but I sent Neil off to work with a kiss anyway. By some sort of crazy miracle, Sophie let me sleep in until 8am. Sometimes I think that kid knows more than she lets on. I tried to tough it out, playing with her and trying to be business as usual, but after an hour or so it was clear that I was in as bad, if not worse shape than I had been the previous night. So when Neil sent me an email asking how I was and if I needed him to come home, I was so relieved. Mercifully, about this time Sophie was ready for a nap, so I fed her and put her down while I waited for Neil to get home. I decided a shower would make me feel better so I headed for the bathroom. As I stripped down, I happened to look in the mirror (something I normally avoid doing out of respect for my fragile ego) and noticed the fist-sized strawberry birthmark-looking discoloration right where the painful lump had been and realized that what I had been fearing since I began breastfeeding and had been hoping all night wasn't the case, in fact, was...dunh, dunh, dunh...mastitis.

So after a call to my gyno with a request for some antibiotics, I was off to bed. I spent most of the rest of the day curled up in bed while Neil watched the bean. Every three hours or so he would bring her to me for a feeding and a cuddle but other than that he manned the fort. Of course, I still made dinner, but he did offer to order pizza, so I can't be bitter about that.

Now here's the really horrible admission: I actually enjoyed my sick day. Don't get me wrong, I was totally miserable, but having a whole day where I didn't change a diaper or have to worry about entertaining the baby or my husband and all I had to do was lay in bed, sleep and watch the Wire in the Blood dvd from Netflix that's been sitting on the table for a week because I haven't had time to watch it, was actually kind of nice. Its a cool show, by the way, I just love BBC.

TGIF, I've had a couple of doses of the antibiotics. Most of the symptoms have disappeared, the pain is down to a dull roar and unbelievably, Sophie let me sleep in until 8 again. I feel like a new person. The moral of the story is, don't get mastitis because it really does suck, but if you do, it's almost worth it for the mini-vacation.

Warning: Poop Talk

It took some time, but I believe we have finally conquered Mount Solid Food. There were some stops and starts and at one point I thought we were going to have to go all the way back down to Only Breastmilk Base Camp, but in the end, we were victorious. The bean is actually eating at least one twee jar of food a day. What I hadn't quite prepared myself for was the change in poop that accompanies the transition to this new diet. During the BF exclusively days, her poop was very liquid-y and smelled, if not good, then not bad. Oh, gooey poop, how I miss thee.

Now it has a much more solid consistency, which isn't altogether bad. However, the stink that accompanies said poo definitely is. After one particularly foul smelling episode, I told Neil that we were just going to have to abandon solid food until she was potty trained. I think he thought I was kidding. I admit, it might be a little weird breast feeding a three year old, but I'll trade that awkwardness any day for that righteous stink. I mean, seriously, I'm going to have to deal with these nasty poopie diapers for the next 2+ years? Is eight months too early to begin potty training?

I recognize that this is not the most appealing of subjects and that I have nearly scared the grandparents away from babysitting with my exposure of her recent blowout, but I can't seem to resist talking about this aspect of parenting. Maybe it's because I spend so much of my day attending to her "movements" or maybe its because I stopped reading the bloody parenting books so I didn't see it coming or maybe its because I'm a stay at home mom whose primary daily interaction is with a 7 month old baby. Probably all of the above. Sorry.

My Little Funny Face

I realized I haven't posted a picture of the bean in quite a while, so for those of you jonesing for your Sophie fix, here it is:

Happiness is...

...waking up before the baby.

...my husband watching the baby so I can sleep in.

...coming down to a clean kitchen after sleeping in.

...sleeping more than four hours in a row.

...going to the mailbox and finding only the newest People magazine - no bills OR junk mail.

...a full glass of Coca-Cola over ice.

...realizing that I haven't stepped on the scale in a while and when I do, I've lost 5 pounds!!

...getting to the cash register and realizing those absolutely fabulous shoes are an extra 25% off.

...taking two sizes of pants into the dressing room and fitting into the smaller pair.

...seeing my husband cuddling with our daughter.

...when that new recipe turns out better than expected.

...watching the bean sleep.

...that first warm and cold bite of apple pie a la mode.

...an empty laundry basket.

...buying something lite/low fat and discovering it tastes just as good as the leaded version.

...going to sleep with a perfect cool breeze coming in through the open windows.

...seeing my daughter smile.

What is happiness to you?

The Most Interesting Man in the World (aside from my husband)

I've heard the commercials for Dos Equis about the MOST INTERESTING MAN IN THE WORLD a bunch of times and generally I think they're kind of hokey. Although, if truth be told and why not, I am strangely drawn to them. But there's one where they're going through the list of all of the reasons he's so cool and they came to one that almost made me do a spit-take in my car: aliens abduct him so HE can probe THEM. Hahahahahaha.ha..ha...ha...

...maybe it's only funny in the context of the others. So here's some more:

If there were an interesting gland, his would be larger than most men's entire lower intestines.

His shirts never wrinkle.

He is left-handed. And right-handed.

Even if he forgets to put postage on his mail, it gets there.

He once knew a call was a wrong number, even though the person on the other end wouldn't admit it.

You can see his charisma from space.

The police often question him, just because they find him interesting.

He once punched a magician. That's right. You heard me.

When he orders a salad, he gets the dressing right there on top of the salad, where it belongs...where there is no turning back.

If a monument was built in his honor, Mt. Rushmore would close, due to poor attendance.

Anyhoo, there's a website with more fun tidbits and games: staythirstymyfriends.com

You have to be 21 to enter the website, or at least say you are. Because no one would lie about their age on the interweb. Definitely check out "Learn the Vernacular" under "Get to know me." It's a little awkward to navigate, but the insults from around the world are worth it.

Oh What Joy, Teething

Adam and Eve had many advantages, but the principal one was that they escaped teething. - Mark Twain

Despite saying that I was abandoning the parenting books (which I have for the most part), I did look in them to see what to expect on the teething front. Because there can't really be that much up to fate on this aspect, right? I mean getting teeth seems to be a fairly straightforward affair. Pretty much everything says they'll get that first tooth around 6 months and then get one a month after that. Additionally, these teeth will come in a particular order - bottom front two and then top front two and then top sides and bottom sides and so on. I know that kids get their first teeth at different ages, so I was surprised but not worried when her first tooth popped through at 4 months. Of course, I was a little nervous as to how this might impact nursing, but so far that hasn't been much of an issue. Small mercies.

Since then, her teeth have been coming in hard and heavy and in an order that can only be considered erratic. Right now she has all of her teeth on her left side and one on her bottom right and an ugly area that looks to be another tooth on her right side. With this newest tooth, expected to come through any day, her average is up to two a month. The good news is that it is the other front tooth, so at least she's starting to look a little less like a hockey player. And it does look like at least one other right sider is gearing up to make an appearance, thankfully. At this rate, I fully expect her to have a complete set of teeth by the time she's a year old. Do I just skip the baby food and go straight to steak?

And I'm seriously thinking about nursing her that long with a mouthful of razor-sharp baby piranha teeth?

Fun Factoid of the Day

I admit to sometimes forgetting to cover my gaping yap when I yawn when it's just me and the Bean. She finds it terribly entertaining. So much so, that sometimes I will fake a yawn just to get a smile. Then it occurred to me that unlike adults, she doesn't yawn in response. And I began to wonder at what age babies/children develop the reactive yawn reflex. So I did a little research (god bless the internet) and it turns out that yawns become contagious to babies between one and two years of life.

Interesting, n'est-ce pas?

I also found out that one theory behind the yawn is that in caveman days the leader of the pack (herd? clan?) would yawn and this signaled to everyone else that it was sleepytime. Therefore, yawns are an unneccessary remnant of those early days since we have clocks now and don't need our leaders to tell us when to sleep. Which is good because I wouldn't even trust most of our leaders to tell me when to brush my teeth.

There are lots of other theories behind the need to yawn, including oxygen deprivation, the need to stretch facial muscles and my favorite, that our brains are overheating. I'm sticking with the caveman theory, though.