Lactivism Alive in Austin

Today we went to the Breastfeeding Challenge at Republic Square Park. The goal was to get as many women as possible breastfeeding their children at the same time. It was amazing to be in such great company! I saw little babies, big babies, young babies and older babies. One thing was sure. None of these babies wanted to eat at 11am.

It didn't help that the Einstein that was organizing this event decided an air horn would be a good instrument to alert everyone to the "latch start time". Sadly, 103 women lost nipples that day. Oh well. It was the thought that counts, and I was proud to be a part of such a great event. And it worked at getting the word out! A man asked me later what we were all doing there and I proudly (and perhaps too loudly) explained to him that we were staging a breastfeeding nurse in. He sputtered once, stammered twice and quickly stumbled away.

Not all the men in the park were so uncomfortable though! There were several proud papas standing guard over their broods, just waiting for someone to look cross-eyed at their hungry allbeit distracted nurslings. I know, my husband was one of these.

The only uncomfortable thing that happened (aside from the airhorn caused head turn) was that a woman from CT's office was at the event. Nothing aids office politics like flashing a nipple.

One can't be sure

Yesterday may have been a very important day in all of our lives. Oliver may have taken his first steps. Or, he may have simply gotten tired and stopped crawling. We were in the living room, Oliver was exploring the house, when I heard a thud followed by crying. I went into the dining room to see what happened and there he was, face down in the middle of the floor.

If he had fallen while standing he would have been on his back close to a chair or something, and if he had fallen off the step he would be closer to the step. The only thing that makes sense is that he let go of a chair, took two steps and fell in the middle of the room.

Of course we missed it. This is why we need hidden cameras.

Oprah fails women

I watched Oprah last week with rapt attention. The guest: Christina Applegate. The subject: Breast cancer in young women and how it can be avoided. When asked the question, point blank, "What lifestyle choices can we make to prevent breast-cancer?" Oprah's expert said, "Diet and exercise." Of course, Oprah interrupted at that point and cut to commercial but what an opportunity missed!!

Breastfeeding is a great way to lower your risk of breast-cancer and ovarian cancer. Since it runs in my family, I will be doing what I can to prevent this in myself. Will you?

Take that Oprah!

I have a secret

I have a confession. I have been cheating on this blog. I now have two blogs.

CT and I have decided to save money by not spending money on any "extras" for three months. I have decided to write about it. You can find this new blog: Not buying it!

I didn't mean to keep this a secret, but I wasn't sure that we would stick with it (still not confident) but since it has been a week, I shall share our experience. Hopefully, and with the economy circling the drain, this blog will inspire you all to take a little less, give a little more and to be happy with what you have.

I leave you with what you all came for. Oliver.

Hell Week

Sleep deprivation, limited amount of time to eat, feats of strength and stamina and someone intimidating shouting at you to do it faster and better. Sound like Navy Seal training? Guess again, its life in a day as a mom to a 9 month old. I don't know what is going on with him but neither one of us have slept in the past week. Sure, it might be teeth - he has 8 already, how many more does he need? It might be tummy troubles - he has started eating a bunch of solids. Or, he could just simply hate me and want me to be miserable.

On days like today, when I can hardly see for the bleariness in my eyes, when my husband is sneezing every three seconds from allergies, my house is a wreck and the baby can't stop needing, I look around at my life and wonder, what would happen if I just walked out and never came back? Sometimes the only thing keeping me from doing just that is breastfeeding. He needs specifically me to take care of feeding him, and while sure, he would take a bottle after a day or two, it would wreck his world. Meanwhile, if I was formula feeding and anyone off the street could take care of him, I would have hit the road out of frustration, exhaustion and a need to hear my own thoughts jangling around in my head.

Oh and POO to anyone who thinks starting solids makes babies sleep through the night. They made mine stop.

Scariest day of my life

Today I finally felt like I was on top of things. I was getting laundry done, I had diapers on the line, and Oliver's closet was resembling an actual closet instead of a storage unit. I was doing it all! Labeling, washing, switching out 6-9 month clothing for 9-12 month clothing and even was getting rid of stuff I no longer needed on Freecycle (my obsession). Most importantly even while I was doing this, I was present for Oliver. I was showing him how to fold clothes - he unfolded, how to put things away - he opened and closed drawers, and what each thing in the room was called - he crawled away meowing at the cat. I didn't say all my efforts were appreciated.

I left him for literally 5 seconds to run downstairs to put some freecycle stuff on the front porch. I left the door open behind me just in case he started crying, which of course, he did. I look up at the balcony and there he is, head, arms and shoulders through the bars. His shoulders keeping him from moving backwards to safety, his diaper - cloth of course - keeping him from falling to the tile below. I freaked. I ran as fast as I could move up the stairs. He was stuck, but I twisted him so he was out and in my arms in seconds. I think it goes without saying that we will be installing some kind of plexiglass up there this weekend.

Afterwards, I just held him, crying. He didn't see what the big deal was and wanted to go play. Terrifying. Apparently it was God's way of getting back at me for what is commonly refered to in my family as "That Grand Canyon Stunt."

The cat's in the cradle

I am convinced that the cat is trying to kill me. I am not sure how, but I am pretty sure the door hinges are in on this somehow. I write this blog under duress and just in in case, so when I am found, my dead, lifeless body hardening under rigor mortis (or stickamortis - as my sister calls it -because you become as stiff as a stick I guess) you will know the cause of death: exhaustion. Through my power of deduction I believe I have almost cracked her evil scheme.

You see, each time the baby is about to go to sleep, the cat will will start yowling. It doesn't matter what I do! The cat could be fed, watered and locked in a closet but somehow as soon as the baby's breathing evens, and his eyes start to close and the whining (dear god the whining!) ceases, I hear it. Quiet at first, but then, louder, more insistent. "Meow? MEOW!?!" The baby's eyes fly open and sleep is off the table. The first time, it was a coincidence. The second time it was annoying. The 54th time, it was time to figure out how I could kill the cat, and make it look like an accident.

The meowing alone is not enough to convict the kitty of Sleep Depravation in the 3rd Degree though. And eventually such tactics stopped working like they once did. So, the cat escalated her attempts. Now, as soon as the baby has drifted off and is laying sound asleep in the crib, the cat starts tearing around the upstairs - claws out - to insure maximum volume when the carpet rips underneath her. This has cut nap-time from two hours to about 20 minutes, most of which is spent putting the baby down, picking the baby up, putting him down, returning to find him sitting up, putting him down again, etc.

One guaranteed way of making the baby wake up? Make food. Or coffee. It doesn't matter, the baby hates it when I do either one. I would nap with the kid, but I can't run to my bedroom and fall asleep fast enough to do so.