A Mother's Love

The self sacrificing nature of motherhood never ends. My own mother proved that to me today. Knowing that I have been feeling overwhelmed of late, and that I had a long day ahead of me, my mother cut her own plans short to be with me today. She arrived baring Starbucks (always a good start) and then proceeded to hold the baby, feed her my pumped bottles, and thoroughly entertain her so that I could get a lot of cleaning and straightening done. These things warmed my heart, but are not what really moved me.

The very large man who was replacing my front door today (from 9 am until 4 pm!!!) was having rather unfortunate gastric issues. Every so often he would ask to use our bathroom and as much as I wanted to say no, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I had to light candles, open the window, and close the door just to keep the smell from permeating out into the hall. My poor mother had to use the bathroom after one of his visits. I was in the nursery with my daughter, which shares a wall with the bathroom, when I started hearing a funny noise from the other side of the wall. It sounded like a sucking noise and splashing water followed by a flush. This went on four or five times before my mother walked back into the nursery smelling of rubbing alcohol and cleaning supplies. The large smelly man had stopped up the toilet and my mom, whose name I am currrently submitting for sainthood, spent 15 minutes plunging it for me! It was a messy ordeal, she mentioned being worried about e coli poisoning, but she did it because she's my mom. I had hoped that as my daughter got older our relationship would center less around poop and more around coffee dates and such...but after today I see that some things will always be part of a mother's love.

Tomorrow

All I can think about tonight is how much I'm not looking forward to tomorrow. I had scheduled to get our new front door put in tomorrow without thinking through the scenario very thoroughly. 1.) It's going to be cold tomorrow and I'm going to have no front door for about 3 hours...brrrr. 2.) My adorable psycho puppy barks like mad when he thinks he sees someone. Tomorrow there will be actual people and I can only imagine how annoying he will be. 3.) My home is a mess right now with toys, clothes, and bottles everywhere. Why I feel like I need to clean it up for the workers and not my husband I have no idea, but I need to get cleaning before they show up at nine tomorrow morning. So, besides these problems surrounding the door installation, two new problems arose when I got home from spending the afternoon with my mom and sister. The first is that the laundry room is covered in water because a pipe broke. The second is that my kitchen faucet sprung a leak and the cabinet underneath the sink, and everything in it, is now also covered in water. These will be worked on tomorrow too, but who knows when the guys for these will show up. While I'm glad all of this will be fixed, I'm not looking forward to being sequestered in a cold house for an indefinite amount of time with a baby, a barking dog, and a number or errands I need to run but now wont be able to. I'm treating myself to a venti tomorrow.

Our Little Pixie

Something very exciting happened today. It is not that I was painting my nails with Sophia asleep on my lap and I spilled Lincoln Park After Dark on her shirt. It is also not that I pumped 10 oz of breast milk and then proceeded to drop it all over my carpet. No, my exciting news is that Sophia giggled for the first time today! My husband was changing her, he's wonderful, when all of the sudden her coos turned into the cutest giggles I've ever heard! The only giggles I had heard up until today were from annoying girls in high school, and Sophia's, thankfully, were nothing like that. As soon as she laughed I thought of the line from Peter Pan about Tinker Bell that says, "When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies." How ironic is it that friends of ours, who didn't know that I've been in love with Tink since I was little, bought Sophia her Halloween costume already and it's none other than Tinker Bell! I love my giggly little fairy.

I Simply Remember My Favorite Things

Last Night

I've been trying to write every day but yesterday it just didn't happen. By the time I got home from all of my running around with the baby I was exhausted. My husband had had a really stressful week too, a student brought a loaded gun with him to school, so we canceled our plans and spent the night in. I just couldn't relax though. I've been slowly getting more and more stressed trying to juggle a new baby and the rest of my life. Yesterday everything hit me at once. My milk wouldn't let down and I was getting SO frustrated with myself. My husband could tell I was close to my breaking point and did the most wonderful thing...he took the baby and sent me off to bed. I set the computer on my bedside table and fell asleep to Love Actually playing in the background. When I woke up 10 hours later I felt like a completely different person...myself (with very hard full boobs). I need to figure out how to keep a hold of that feeling, of who I am, while still fulfilling all of my responsibilities and different roles. This, like everything else, is a work in progress. Wish me luck.

PS. Any and all advice is welcome.

Christmas Comes Early This Year

I'm so excited! Tonight, for the first time in months, I got my wedding and engagement rings to fit!!!! I, as I have mentioned in earlier blogs, gained a fair amount of weight while pregnant. I had to either stop wearing my rings, or risk losing my finger. Since life is easier with all of ones appendages, I took the rings off. Over the last month I would put them on and they'd fit...until I ate anything salty or stepped out into the heat. Since I do both regularly, off they'd come again. Well, tonight I have indulged in plenty of salty snacks and the rings still fit!!! Hallelujah! (I think my husband was beginning to think I didn't like him anymore=) I'm also excited tonight because I just saw an advertisement for the Christmas Carol with Jim Carrey and I adore anything, and everything, Christmasy! EEEEEE!!! Not even the most depressing Grey's Anatomy I've ever seen can bring me down tonight. Oh, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, I Can Wear My Rings!

Life Flipping

It's amazing how my life has completely flipped upside down since having Sophia. A good day for me used to consist of shlepping around all day in sweatpants, drinking coffee, sitting on the sofa watching mindless shows on TV, and staying up late. A good day for me now is getting into real clothes (I'm talking actual seams and a waistband), drinking coffee (ok-some things have stayed the same=), being able to get out of the house, and going to bed nice and early. Sophia falls asleep early but that's when I really get flustered...what am I supposed to do with myself!?! I should be doing laundry and straightening up the house but I'd rather snuggle with my hubby, or paint my nails, or even stare blankly at the wall for awhile. Tonight I am multitasking and doing it all. The loads of laundry I have neglected are spinning away, my nails are in the process of drying as we speak, and after I finish writing this I'm going to watch Top Chef with a bowl full of Reduced Fat Wheat Thins and do absolutely nothing. No way...she's waking up...well you never know where your day will go.

Mommy 101

I have a lot to learn about being a mom. I thought that the prenatal classes I took would set me up for success but it seems they left out a few details. Looking back, I think the teacher was playing that two lies and a truth game with us. She said that bouncing on a ball during labor was the key to an easy birth. LIE. I could barely breath no less get out of bed and bounce. If my husband had tried to get that ball anywhere near me I think I would have hit him with it dodge ball style. She also told me that my daughter would love to be swaddled-that ALL babies love to be swaddled. LIE. My daughter hates it. The first few weeks of her life would have been much more enjoyable for us both if I had just let her sleep with her arms above her head like she wanted to. The teacher then told the class that you learn how to be a parent as you go. TRUE. So far I have learned that Soph, my daughter, gets weird gunk behind her ears if I forget to clean there (which I did for the first 6 weeks of her life). Soph also hides grunge in the balled up palms of her hands if I don't pry them open. I've also come to learn that: cradle cap only bothers her when I try to brush it off, the blue bulb thing to clear out her nose makes a great chew toy for my dog, and long painted nails and a diamond ring aren't appreciated by her tender skin. 5 lessons down, about a million more to go.

Why I Hate Garlic

Right now I am sitting on the sofa in my pajamas, exactly as I was when my husband left to go to work at 6:30 this morning. Never have I seen him so eager to leave. It appears that the large quantity of roasted garlic I consumed yesterday does not agree with my daughter's digestive system. Sophia has been sobbing and having gas off and on, (mostly on) since late last night. We have rocked, walked, bounced, listened to music, and driven through the Starbucks drive-thru, which was more for me than her, and nothing has helped. This day has made me have a new respect for people who have colicky babies. How do you guys survive?!? It's been hard enough to handle the cacophonous cries of my baby without also having to deal with the snide comments and disdainful looks of others. The barista at Starbucks handed me my latte with raised eyebrows and a smirk and told me that I had, "some baby." Was that really necessary? I think I should have a sign or something that reads, "let she whose baby never cries cast the first stone." This is more of a rant today than anything else but hey, blogging is cheaper then therapy.

Eating for Two

My daughter's getting older, and I'm starting to see, in very distinct ways, how she is like my husband and me. Today, during her nap, I noticed that she was sucking her thumb. I was a thumb sucker until about 6 while my husband had never done it. A week ago, however, she did something very much like my husband...she lifted her leg to fart... something I have never done. She is also very smiley and sociable, like my husband, but definitely has my stubborn streak. At the pediatrician's office she refused to turn her head to the left, even when the doctor had it in her hands and physically tried to move it. The doctor became worried she couldn't turn her head to one side, even when I assured her she could. Sophia, just like her mom, was just being obstinate. Two minutes later Soph would only look to the left! Seeing her share some of our traits, and also how she she mimics us (she waves=) is both an honor and a huge responsibility. The later is something I was recently reminded of again.

I spent a large portion of my life bulimic, and a few weeks after having my daughter I was tempted to go back to this. I wanted to have control of something, as well as lose the 60 lbs I had gained while pregnant. I fed Soph, put her in her swing, and went to the bathroom to purge my own dinner. When I came back to pick Soph up, I saw that she was covered in her vomit (this was pre-rice cereal... see earlier post) and I started crying. I had just read an article by the American Dietetic Association that said when a mom is dissatisfied with her body, the daughter will learn to base her self-worth on her appearance. The study went on to show that girls as young as five were starting to diet because they saw their mothers doing it. It was intellectual information to me until I saw my mistake mirrored on my daughter's face.

I haven't relapsed since that night, and I have people in place to help keep me accountable. I want my daughter to inherit and learn a lot from me, but not this. For more about this check out:

http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/articlerender.fcgi?artid=2562308 OR

Health Psychol. 2005 November; 24(6): 548–554.

If it Smells Like Poop...

Today my husband and I made plans to meet up with another couple for breakfast. I hadn't seen them since before our daughter was born and I thought I would dress up a little in an attempt to give off the, "I'm a new mom and have it all together" vibe. I don't know why I bothered. Yesterday my mom and I bought a bigger sized diaper for my daughter. I, having yet to find the delicate balance between tummy hurting and poop escaping tightness for this new size, didn't fasten it securely enough when putting it on. As I was holding her in my lap for a quick feed before we left, I felt the giant poop rumble on my leg. I thought, wise mommy that I am, that I would finish feeding her and give her some time to "get it all out" before changing her. A few seconds after that thought went through my mind I felt dampness on my leg. Lifting her up I saw that my pale green skirt now had a bright orange splotch right in the middle of it. I began to feel my "have it all together" vibe slipping away, but I was determined to salvage what I could of it. I peeled away her clothes, wiped the poop off of her back, stuck her in the tub, and re-outfitted us both. Moments later we were all in the car on our way, running only a little behind. As I was sitting there I realized I still smelled poop. She couldn't have done it again could she have? My husband, noticing I was a little frazzled, said he'd change her when we got to the restaurant and I was more then willing to take him up on it. After we parked he went to change her in the backseat but the diaper was clean. As I walked over to him in disbelief that it could smell so strongly of poop and be empty he began to laugh. "Katy, you have poop on your nose!" I think I need something stronger than coffee.

Mommy Needs Her Sleep

People have asked me, both during my pregnancy and after, if I think it's wise to be drinking coffee. I have read that some people have complications with their babies when they have caffeine, but thankfully I'm not one of them. Sophia sleeps through the night (most of the time), is always smiling and never irritable or cranky, only cries briefly to let us know she's hungry (except for today)... if only David had it so easy with me! The only complications that have arrived are when I DON'T have caffeine. The reason this blog is called Mommy NEEDS Her Coffee verses Mommy WANTS Her Coffee are as follows (these are actual events that took place when I tried not drinking coffee): I put a load of her laundry in the wash, forgetting that the key to actually getting them clean is to turn it on; I tried to make brownies and forgot to add eggs; I packed Soph and I up for a walk in the park, only to realize I had forgotten to bring the stroller; I tried to buy Starbucks with no wallet (thankfully they felt sorry for me and gave it to me anyway); and then today my sister and mom pointed out to me that I spelled coffee wrong on my blog's web address ("coffeee") and I had never noticed. Looks like what this mommy really needs is her sleep-but in the mean time I'll still be drinking the coffeee=).

Pregnancy is No Joke

After my experiences during the pregnancy of my daughter, I vowed to never give unsolicited advice. I've been trying to hold myself back but today I can't. I need to share this with you in the hopes that you can learn from my mistake and save yourself some post traumatic stess.

At my six week checkup with the OB, he and I decided that an IUD was the best method of birth control for me taking into consideration a number of factors, one of them being that my husband and I want to wait 2-3 years before giving Sophia a sibling. My doctor, a now close friend of my husband and I, suggested that I tell David (my husband) that I was pregnant as a joke. I, being the loving mature wife that I am, thought that was an amazing idea and called him, at work, to tell him I was knocked up. Incase any of you women get a similar urge and think that telling the father of a six week old that his wife is pregnant would be good for a laugh let me save you the time... they don't find it amusing. (That was piece of advice number one.)

This week I had to go in to make sure the placement of the IUD was correct. My doctor pauses during the ultrasound, looks at me, and says, "You wont believe this but congratulations, looks like we've got a David JR in there! Lets pull out that IUD!" Can you imagine?!? Being pregnant again with only 2 months off? I was just beginning to fit into some of my old clothes! Our home is nowhere near big enough! I'm barely surviving the one I already have for crying out loud, which I was about ready to do (or take the ultrasound wand and start bashing in the computer monitor) when my doctor bursts out laughing and barely manages to gasp out, "AHHHH-you should have seen your face!" After calming down by treating myself to a grande iced latte at Starbucks I arrived at my second piece of advice, and the moral of this story. An OB telling the mother of an eight week old that she is pregnant is NEVER good for a laugh AND, what goes around comes around so watch yourself. With that this very NOT pregnant mommy bids the day a good night.

Baby Namer's Regret

I have a confession to make. The wisdom of saying something of this magnitude on the internet is questionable but for the sake of brutal honesty here I go... I wish I had named my daughter Madeline. I know what you're thinking. Who says this, who thinks this, and for heaven's sake who would ever admit to others that they suffer from Baby Namer's Regret?!? It's not that I don't like the name Sophia, I do, I'm the one who came up with it, but my mom planted the seed of discontent in my head this last week while we were at Starbucks and I can't get past it.

My mother, trying to either spoil or kill my 7 week old, offered her Madeline cookies. First problem: my daughter had, only that week, learned how to swallow and digest thickened breast milk (see my first post for the gory details)... there's no way she was going to get down a cookie. Second problem: Madelines are those peaked cookies that aren't good enough to make it into the actual bakery case with all the other pastries and instead have to reside in the plastic bin by the register with the broken biscotti and instant coffee packets... doesn't her granddaughter even rank a chocolate chip? But I was going to say when Truth broke in with all her matter-of-fact about the cookies (see Frost's Birches) that I heard the name and thought it would be perfect. My daughter has redish hair just like the girl from the books, and if that's not a sign I don't know what is! I finally mustered up the courage to ask my husband about a name change and, while we were at it, changing her last name to Valentine as Madeline Valentine had a nice ring to it. He said no.

As I look over at my daughter I'm reminded that we named her Sophia because it means wisdom, something I pray she has that will guide her through life. Sophia will stay Sophia. I like that. Hmm... I wonder what he'd think about a new dog... Madeline the Mastiff?

The Baby Body

My daughter will be two months old this Friday. I'm not sure what I expected my body to look like at this point, but I think it was something like Heidi Klum's when she walked the VS runway 8 weeks after having her son. A girl can dream can't she? Needless to say, mine doesn't resemble that.

I got up to 182 pounds while pregnant with my daughter, and for a girl of 5'4" that's pretty significant. Everywhere I looked I was confronted by images of pregnant celebrities whose waists, thighs, and arms all dwarfed in comparison to mine. I began to feel self conscious when I went out and guilty when I stepped on the scale at the doctor's office. At one appointment, the OB told me flat out that I was fat and I broke down in tears. I came home that day determined to not eat for the duration of my pregnancy. I kept up this ridiculous regime for three days, when at that point I got light headed and fell, sending my very pregnant self into the emergency room for monitoring. I was released later that night, but not before learning a very important lesson; the well being of myself and my daughter come before anyone's idea of how thin I should be... including my own.

This morning at my doctor's appointment I weighed 147 pounds, and the stomach in the picture is mine. This means that 1.) I weigh more than Nicole Richie and 2.) no one is going to want to see me in lingerie except my husband. You know what? I am more than okay with both=). I think I'll be having a mocha WITH whip today.

Mommyhood

So-I have decided to start a blog about my experiences with mommyhood. Every day since my daughter's birth has been wrought with sleep deprivation, breast tenderness, and more joy, laughter, and tears then I ever imagined. Up until a week ago vomiting could have been added to that list as well. Oh yes, the darling angel now asleep in my arms used to projectile vomit after feedings. Women, upon hearing my dilemma, usually said something wonderfully helpful such as, "Oh yes, my dear Frou Frou used to spit up too. Use this darling burp cloth." I would want to correct them but what could I say? "No, not 'SPIT UP', VOMIT, as in I just changed both of our outfits huddled in my car because my baby went Exorcist on me." See...that would have never worked. Thankfully my sister, who will be referred to in this blog as either "The Baby Whisperer" or the "Massproducer", suggested I pump and add rice cereal to my milk to thicken it so she couldn't throw it up anymore. I tried her suggestion and the baby and I made it till bedtime (a truly antiquated term these days) in the same outfits we started the day with for the first time in weeks! I now bottle breast feed. It's a process that takes much longer but has increased my number of friends and helped reignite my romantic relationship with my husband, due largely to the fact that I no longer walk around smelling of dried vomit and sour milk. Ahh, just another day in the life, now where's my coffee?