Dijon diapers and the Insatiable Appetite

Wow. Has it really been more than two weeks since I last posted? I don't have a good reason. Lots of inadequate reasons, but nothing good. Let's just say that my life has revolved around changing diapers filled with something akin to Dijon mustard, feeding a baby that seems to have an appetite that challenges Paula Dean's, and seeing just how little can be done during those 30 minute cat naps Lady Bug loves so much.

But here I am. I swore I would write something, anything, and then just hit "post" as aforementioned wee one wakes up.

She is starting to smile. That means SO much. It's hard to change diapers, feed on command, get little sleep, rock back and forth a kajillion times with no response other than that of not screaming. The first month was hard! But, now in her fifth week (has it really been that long already?), she is starting to respond. She makes the occasional coo instead of just crying, and seems to respond to my silly sing song voice.

I've started to get out of the house by myself which is totally scary. You just never know when she's going to have a total meltdown. It's the worst when you're driving and there's no where to pull over and you just have to listen to her wail away. It breaks your heart AND drives you cuckoo at the same time.

She/we are starting to see some type of routine/schedule develop. Thank goodness she goes into perpetual melt down mode when BigB gets home from work and then seems to calm down around 10:30, just in time for us to go to bed. I get about four hours of sleep, nurse her a bit, then BigB gets up with her a few hours later, and I get another four hours of sleep, so not too bad.

This is the mundane post. There will lots of better ones. I promise. There's just too many hilarious and mind-bending things going on right now NOT to post them!

 

My milk supply is seriously inadequate (more on that to come). So, I'm pumping to try and increase the flow. Pumping sucks. I'm just gonna lay it out there. In researching "how to increase milk," I come across this picture:

There is nothing fun or pleasant about pumping (except maybe the 15 minutes I get alone). I don't know how much they paid this woman to look all happy and comfortable with her hands-free pumping bra, but its a bunch of crap.

You cannot sit cross-legged on the floor and pump. You have to be in some kind of a sturdy chair and you basically can't move because you've got tubing that tethers you to 12 inches of a pleather bag encasing your pump. Not sexy or fun.

The bra itself looks like some sort of Madonna-lingerie gone bad. Instead of sexy pointy boobs, you've got projectile bottles full of a sticky substance that seems to find its way onto every surface within three feet of you. But hey, at least you can talk on the phone and write in your day planner. Let's make a date! I can pump! Let's close that million dollar deal - I can pump!

I'd like to hear the conversation with this woman's agent:

"Hey! Becky! Guess what? I've got a sweet gig for you! My client is looking for a gorgeous thirty-something business type woman for a discreet lingerie photo shoot. Nothing showing but the bra - very modest. You'll love it."

Then, when she shows up, they toss her the ensemble that will cast her into b-rated horror flicks for the rest of her life: the hands-free pump bra.

Oh, and by the way, there's no way in hell that woman has had a baby recently. Look at her six pack abs. My abs are somewhere around my knees and show little to no promise of ever returning.

I made my own hands-free wonder. Took an old sports bra and cut two holes in it. It's totally sexy. See for yourself: