Cooking therapy
The other day I had a REALLY bad day.
It was basically a culmination of a million different reasons: we’re going through a heatwave, Darling Husband is always working, I never have the car (so Baby Boy and I are stuck at home), the fridge and cupboards were barren, I was up all night nursing Baby Boy (damn growth spurts), and we were woken up at 7 a.m. by a construction crew AND a landscaping crew outside the bedroom window. Lovely.
Luckily, my mom came over to watch Baby Boy so I could get groceries and make dinner, and it honestly turned around my supremely bad day. I wanted to make a point of blogging about it so when this happens again, I can (hopefully) remember how to make things a little better.
Darling Husband and I have basically lived off frozen food since Baby Boy was born, and I hadn’t realized how much it bothered me — it was just a necessity, with me always being home alone (and BUSY) with Baby Boy. I often make myself scrambled eggs and other quickies, but even then it requires stopping here and there to pick him up and comfort him, and it can take forever to finish even a simple dish.
But while my mom entertained Baby Boy in the living room, I took an hour and actually cooked something. I cooked chicken breasts and bacon and potatoes and put together my fave meal: chicken-bacon-veggie wraps, served with cheesy-corn spuds (basically cut-up baked potatoes with cheese and corn).
I don’t know if it was the act of chopping and cooking and assembling that calmed me, or eating fresh ingredients for the first time in ages, or just being somewhat alone and off baby-duty for an hour, but I felt a million times better afterwards.
Cheers to that!
Mommy confession …
We’re in the middle of a heat wave, so yesterday I put on a very short, sexy nightie at 5 p.m. and wore it all evening/night, just because it was the coolest thing I had.
Darling Husband didn’t get home from work until 1 a.m. (and I was long asleep by then!), so technically I was strutting around in lingerie for hours in front of only my baby.
Oh, the inappropriateness …
Hair today, gone tomorrow
Yesssssss! I’m losing my hair!
Most new moms dread this post-partum symptom, but I’ve been just WAITING for it. I have mega-thick hair to begin with — as in, hairdressers always go on and on about it, to the point where I feel like a wildebeest — so the idea of losing a little was exciting.
I figured it would happen right after I had Baby Boy, but it didn’t. A friend who had a baby a month before me said hers started falling out around the three-month-mark, and sure enough, mine has just started in the last week or so.
I am finding strands everywhere — the bathroom floor, my clothes, on Baby Boy. I’ve always had long hair and shed it here and there, but this is much more noticeable.
I’m not worried about “losing fullness and body” or getting bald spots — because seriously, I have enough hair for three people — but I am horrified about something disturbing I just read: the fallen-out hairs can sometimes act as “hair tourniquets” and get wrapped tightly around your baby’s penis! WTF???
My baby is more polite than your baby
I’m pretty sure Baby Boy knows manners already. When he’s fussing for his soother, and I slip it into his mouth, he goes, “Ack-coo.”
Tell me that is not “Thank you!” I dare you!
Or, it is possible that I am one of those parents who perhaps reads more into things than they should.
In related news, I am pretty sure he is responding to questions by shaking his head no, and nodding yes. He also seems to be holding his legs up in the air when he wants his diaper changed. Genius!
And, you know, he is also solving algebra equations. Probably.
Mommy confession …
My boobs look soooo much nicer after I’ve been pumping for a week or so.
They get so big and firm that I can almost (maybe?) overlook the annoying side effects of pumping …
… like leaking …
… and tenderness …
… and having to hand-express before nursing Baby Boy or else I spray him with a burst of milk …
… although accidentally shooting milk across the room at Mom was pretty funny …
OK, fine. It’s not quite worth it, just to have bigger boobs.
*POUT*
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Heather's Handmade Life 