Things that make you go hmmmm....

Hello blog lovers! We have been having some issues with a troll, or in simple speak, a person who is so obsessed with my brilliance, they feel it necessary to post stupid little comments on my blog. I love getting comments, and hate to delete, but I refuse to allow people to post who are coming from a bad space. That doesn't mean you have to agree with me, but it does mean you have to at least LIKE me to post on my blog. If I could block this person I would, but as she has demonstrated other places, she knows how to change her name and come back. Maybe if she spent less time thinking about me and more time with her kids, she wouldn't feel so guilty about her parenting choices that she has to stalk me, but whatever!

I do not want to shut my blog down, as it was written for all of our family and friends who don't get to see Oliver on a daily basis. So from now on, I will have to approve comments that come in, sorry about the change, hopefully the troll will be on her way soon.

Cross Nursing: Friend or Foe?

Some of you may have seen the piece GMA did on cross nursing. To those of you who didn't, let me explain. Cross nursing is not where you feed your kid even though you are mad at him - been there, done that! - it is where if a woman for whatever reason, nurses another woman's baby. This can be done for several reasons: the baby won't take a bottle (yes, it is possible that the baby doesn't care about societal norms), the mom has supply issues, can't pump enough to make a bottle, or maybe the mom just would rather the baby be getting good for you breast milk rather than man made sludge.

At any rate, because breastfeeding is finally becoming more and more popular, and formula feeding less so, more moms are turning to cross nursing. For instance, I pump for a friend's daughter (seen holding Ollie's hand in picture) and if I thought it would help the little girl, I would move in with her family and breastfeed her from the tap. It wouldn't, so I will not be infiltrating their home. Why not just get the milk from a milk bank you say? Afterall, isn't that what it is for!? Consider this: milk banks charge $5/oz of breastmilk. That is about $20 PER FEEDING!! The normal baby eats about ever three hours, making the grand total per day $160 just to feed a baby exclusively breastmilk. How many people do you know who can afford this? Do you see now why we call it "liquid gold"? Personally, I think it is horrible that these banks charge money at all...they didn't make the milk, all they are is a middle man. You can get a prescription for the banked milk, but insurance companies are far too concerned with old guys getting a woody to pay for babies to eat, so good luck there.

Why not just go with Similac, Enfamil or whatever your doctor is advertising this week? Formula is at best, a good FOURTH option. We all know breast is best, though I prefer to think of it as just normal as best implies that it is best, but something else is normal. The second best would be a mother's expressed milk in a bottle, but as we have talked about, some women can't pump. I think those moms have smart boobies. The third best is a donor's milk either from the tap or bottled. And then, the last resort, formula.

I guess women have a hard time separating the breast from sex. I have even heard some women state that they won't breast feed because their breasts belong to their husbands. Wow, not sure why their husbands won't just drink beer like my husband...seems selfish. Also, I wonder if these women had vaginal deliveries, seems like the vagina is far more sexual than two glorified baby feeders! My point is, that if nursing your own baby is beautiful, than nursing two babies are twice as beautiful. Don't believe me? Ask a woman who's baby has been saved by donor milk. The container doesn't matter when the contents are love.

This part of the day...

...shouldn't exist!!! It is 5:30am, the baby is wide awake playing on the floor. I am drinking coffee. Why so early? Because CT went off on a coughing jag, waking the baby up. If he doesn't watch it, I'm going to give him something to cough about!! It is a wonder to me as to why I am the one who is up with the kid and CT is the one who is sleeping soundly (until I smother him) upstairs.

Yes, he has been going through some ch-ch-ch-changes lately. Of course, he is in a discovery phase - that I hope never ends - right now, so I imagine every day for him is like an adventure. Do you think that Jack from Beanstalk fame took the time out to find food when he was walking around the giant's house? You think Chris Columbus was all "yea, this is nice, but where can I find some shut eye??" when he saw America for the first time? And when Captain Picard stumbled upon the Q Continuum did he go about his day with out argument? No of course not!

To nerd it up a bit, as if the Star Trek reference hadn't accomplished the destruction of my reputation enough, it is like World of Warcraft. I imagine that when a baby is just about to learn to do something new and different, they forgo all other things to master that skill. Likewise, WoW fans are known to not eat, not sleep and wear diapers to avoid potty breaks (just like babies!) when they are about to beat a particularly fierce opponant - a 13 year old named Carl who lives in Virginia.

With that thought, I leave you with a video of Oliver learning. Looks like fun doesn't it?

The Dude Abides

What is a woman to do when her mate is desirous of a perfectly made White Russian and there is no cream in the house? Not a problem if said woman is lactating! That's right kids, you CAN mix breast milk and vodka! I wouldn't give it to the baby (babies prefer whiskey) but your husband will love it! What other drink can both give you a buzz AND stem cells!? Don't try this with formula...the powder mixes poorly with the Kahlua. I know, I know, there are some of you who think this is gross, but I ask you: what is grosser? Drinking human breast milk from someone you know and love, or a stranger COW'S breast milk? I rest my case.

In other news, CT is no longer allowed to get dressed in the morning. Invariably what happens is the baby tries to eat enough to settle in for a nap just around the time CT gets out of the shower. This causes Oliver's eyes to fly open and my nipple to get pulled half way across the bed when he turns his head to stare at his daddy. Then, for the next hour as CT joyful and unfettered goes to work and probably has coffee - bastard - I have to contend with a sleepy, angry and full baby. There is nothing worse than this combination because now I can't even nurse him to sleep and I just have to deal with the whine. I have written up a letter for his fellow workers in case there is a problem with CT coming to work naked.

To Whom it May Concern:

I am sorry, my husband could not put pants on this morning as his son was eating. However, if you will notice, he IS wearing a turtle neck.

Thank you,
Alyssa Goss, Mgmt.

That should do the trick! Also, shout out to my mom who lost her precious, sweet dog today. The dog was neither sweet nor precious, but he was family, and we loved him just the way he was.

This blog post is in memory of Parris Murray Hansen 1996 -2008

Lost Highway

Everyone's idea of hell is a little different. Some think it is a firey lake of fire, others, a void without meaning and still others, a treadmill while Celine Dion (the greatest singa in de world!) is playing on a continuous loop. I am here to tell you, they are all wrong. I experienced hell first hand yesterday, and it looks a lot like Pflugerville.

1pm - My adventure through Dante's Inferno started by my thinking lunch was a good idea. I live in Round Rock, lunch was but a short 5 minute drive to neighboring town, Pflugerville (a place where pfolks think it is pfunny to add a p to all 'f' words - it isn't.) The drive there was downright pleasant, baby peacefully asleep in the back, speakers playing one of the four CDs I desperately need to change. Lunch was pleasant, I had enchiladas, baby had avacado. These details are irrelivent but it is important to note that hell stalks its prey. I leave, hugging my family goodbye, not understanding fully what terror awaited me.

The minute the baby hit the carseat, it was on. I didn't know it at the time, but that little "feed me please" cry would soon become the soundtrack of my hell. At the time, I thought, 5 minutes and boom, home, nurse, nap. Well, somewhere between the restaurant and home, either I hit a wrong turn or Rod Sterling is somewhere eating his heart out.

1:05 - It started with a road block, so I turned into a subdivision to find an alternate route (something the police might have posted). I turned again, and again. Did that street look familar? As the baby's cries became more frantic I began to look around for a place to stop and feed him. If you have driven in Pflugerville, you know, it has two things in abundance. Suburbs and fields of nothing. So I had the choice of barbed wire or someone's driveway to feed my child.
1:15 - As the baby's wail hit a fever pitch, I saw it! Yes, a church! Surely, I would be welcomed there. As I approached, my heart dropped. It was the church I grew up in. The church who's members called me a prostitute for having a nose ring. I broke out in a cold sweat imagining trying to explain myself to the elders who would surely approach the car. "No, its okay!" I would explain, "I used to go here!" "Yes, I WAS ex-communicated, but that is not the point!" I imagined being dragged inside and being forced to recite the catechism and the 5 points of Calvinism. I drove on, wincing at the sound of my son slowly starving to death.

1:25 - Wells Branch!? What the heck!? Where AM I!? That was further South than I was for lunch! I have begun stroking my arm like an autistic child and rocking back and forth in my seat. Every stop light makes the baby cry even more. He has started his hurt cry, which sounds a little like skinning a cat...alive. My GPS system (redundant) doesn't work as it hasn't had an update in 5 years, so it would just be blank. I know baby, I know, I am so sorry soooo sorry!! Please, stop please?!?! We are almost home!! He could hear the panic, he knew I was bluffing, he redoubled his efforts.

1:33 - The baby has given up hope that he will ever be fed. He is gasping for air in his sleep. Tummy growling. I have failed as a mother. I was afraid when the baby stopped crying, it was as if his crying was what was driving me to find home. Without it, we might be lost forever.

1:42 - I find my way, through tears, to the tangle of familiar asphalt. The toll road. It was all I could do not to leap from my car and kiss the 45/130 sign on the side of the highway. I knew I was going home, that the tunnel had an end and it's name was Gattis.

1:45 - Having cheated death, satan and yes, evil itself, I pulled into my driveway. I madly laughed, eyes crazed. Middle finger raised in the to the South. Pfuck you Pflugerville!!! You thought you had me! I win!! IIIIII WIIIIIIINNNN!!!!!

5:00 - CT comes home to see me with baby to the breast, muttering psychoticly under my breath about cutesy german spelling and plans to level suburbia. I still twitch to this day.

Identity Crisis

Hey everyone, Mister Man here! I know it has been a long time since I found time to write to all of you nice people, but there has been so much going on in my life! I hardly have time to sleep with all of the new tricks I am learning. I have a special seat that I can go up and down and up and down and up and down in. I manipulate the world from my 360 degree chair and control panel. My favorite? The button box. There are about 10 of these all around the house, and once I get my hands on one, I can push any number of buttons and things happen. Usually what happens is I am quickly given a different toy, but sometimes, I get to push as many things as possible and noises get LOUD or quiet and sometimes the pictures on the wall go on or off.

Pretty soon I am gonna be able to blow this joint though. Don't get me wrong, this place is okay and all, but I am a man of the world. The siren call of the wild tempts me with every new experience. I don't like to brag, but I can pretty much get anywhere I want. If that place is behind me. Have you ever walked towards something just to have it move farther away from you? Do you blame me for screaming at the blasted toy for staying just out of my grasp? This is why I have invented a little something I call: The Rock and Launch. It is a bit of genius that I came up with to insure that the toy will finally be mine. Aaaaaaalll miiiiiinnnneeee!!!! BWA HAHAHAHA!!!!

Something though, has happened that is a bit disturbing - besides my evil laugh. This disturbing thing has be questioning the very essence of who I am. No one calls me by name anymore. None of my names are being used!! Not Sir, not baby, not even Meestah Man. Instead all they say is Oliver. Oliver this and Oliver that. I have no idea who this guy is, but apparently he is invisible and doesn't listen well, because I have never seen him and they just keep calling him over and over. Maybe I have a brother.

Having a baby changes everything

We have all seen the commercials that warn us that everything in our lives changed with the birth of our first little one. Before, I nodded and thought, ya, sure of course it does. I had no idea.

Going to a Concert
Before: You sit nearest to the people with the best pot. Hoping they will share.
After: You sit nearest to the most stroller friendly path for easy entrance and exit. Hoping people won't yell down in front.

Vacations
Before: You look forward to all night parties and late night sleep ins.
After: You look forward to coffee on the porch in the morning.

The Beach
Before: Walking hand in hand barefoot letting the waves lap at your toes.
After: Lugging the diaper bag, towels, hats, sunscreen, floaties, two chairs, countless toys and two cameras and trying to push a stroller through sand for a baby who sleeps through the entire thing.

Date Night
Before: A long dinner at a restaurant, a bottle of wine, seeing a movie, and "bedtime".
After: Eating at the same time followed by bedtime.

A Bad Day
Before: Monday - Friday
After: Nursing strike, teething and more than three errands to run at one time.

A Good Day
Before: Saturday and Sunday
After: Doing diaper laundry, three whole naps and taking a shower.

Proudest Moment
Before: A promotion due to your fine job on an account.
After: Your 6 month old baby saying "come here kitty!" I swear he did.

Shopping Spree
Before: Victoria's Secret
After: Carter's

When are you going to wean?

My baby is getting so big!! He is learning how to pull my shirt down (oh no!) and he enjoys eating sitting up since sitting up is his favorite new trick. He also has two teeth, first kid in his online buddy group that is his age to get teefers!! So now I am faced with people from all sides asking when in the world am I going to wean? I have tried to be nice about this. I wrote an entire blog about the benefits of Full Term Breastfeeding, I showed my well researched sources to no avail. So, instead of spouting facts at them, (like the American Academy of Pediatrics and the World Health Organization says at LEAST a year, but the longer the better) because obviously, these people aren't reading THOSE blog posts. I have come up with creative responses because they are more fun! So, the next time someone asks me when I am going to wean, or tells me it is time to wean, I will say any of the following responses:

"When you start"

"Why stop now, he is just starting to show he enjoys it!" (Pulling my shirt down, divebombing, signing for it)

"When you stop asking"

"When I can afford a wet nurse"

"Every time you ask, I tack on a year"

"I figure I will have to stop when he goes to college. I can't be making trips to his dorm room every few hours."

"When his prom date arrives at the front door."

"Until he learns to cook dinner, he gets what I serve"

"Allergies!? You wish him ALLERGIES" - This is only funny for those who are familiar with the Hugga Bunch Movie.

"If I tattooed 'Nestle' on my boob would you get off my back?"

"Formula feeders don't get an opinion"

Let this be your warning. If you ask stupid questions, you get stupid answers. Also, asking someone when they are going to stop feeding their child is RUDE. You wouldn't ask someone when they are going to stop diapering their baby would you? It is obvious, when they stop needing it.

And they called it puppy love

Babies love pets. Well, maybe not all babies, but my baby? Loves em. Pretty sure he would marry our cat if she would have him. We are teaching him "gentle" extremely early due to my cat's desire to have a coat of hair this winter, and my dog's love of her ears. It is uncanny Oliver's ability to seek out an animal from anywhere in a room, focus in on it, and use his Jedi powers to trick the poor beast into coming close enough for him to get his sticky infant hands on their fur. Currently, our cat is teaching Oliver how to crawl by being close enough for Oliver to almost reach her and then scooting back a step. She also is sometimes a platform for Ollie to pull up on. This is not her favorite game.

Activities to do when you are a baby and you love animals

Read together!

Playing tug of war can be fun, but beware the chompers!!

Wear them as a hat!

Ride them to town.

Sit, crawl, sleep, repeat.

Well what do you know, Oliver sits. The only problem he has with sitting is that he would rather stand. If he is laying down he does these baby crunches trying to sit up until I finally stop laughing at his efforts, take pity on him and help him get up right. He looks like a flipped over pill bug. The distressed look on his face is priceless! I don't know when I switched to not wanting to break the baby to watching him as he face plants on the floor trying to get a toy. The whole process of learning to move is a bit violent. He never cries, unless it is from frustration so I know it doesn't hurt, but I can't help but cringe every single time. Along with sitting, he is now creeping around. I haven't ever seen this happen, but one second he is in the middle of the room and the next he is under the bed. Yes, thats right, he wiggled underneath the bed. I suspect teleportation. He also uses his feet like hands. I blame his father.

Tooth number two is FINALLY in! He has been Cranky P. McGee for the past few days, but today I think he finally got some relief because he has been sleeping most of the day. We are talking 10-12, 2:30-4:15, 4:30-7 and asleep for the night at 8pm. I am checking on him every half hour because this is not at all normal for him. It is feast or famine with that kid!! He fussed until I put him in his crib, where he turned onto his side and fell asleep each time without complaint. So far I have been able to do laundry, the dishes, cook dinner and EVEN EAT. I could get used to having a "life" I hear so much about! To everyone who has even thought of having children, stock up on Hyland's Teething Tabs - they must be made from angel tears or unicorn pee because they work like magic.