Beating Myself Up.

Gabriel had his first ever bottle of formula today while I worked.

I know I should be proud, I know I should feel successful, I know I should feel accomplished and privileged for what I have done for my baby. It is a feat that I made it from March to August as a working, pumping Mommy without supplementing. Heck, I should still be reveling in my 210 oz. milk donation.

But just that 6 oz. bottle of formula made me feel other things: defeated, guilty, and angry.


It will amount to at max 18 oz. formula per week. Three feedings away from Mommy per week. That's three feedings he does not actually nurse from me. And those three feedings I just cannot replace by pumping.

And I'm probably, as they say, a "tool" for sitting here upset about this when my baby is headed to the 10-month-old category. In other words, I should be grateful that for almost 10 months, Gabriel only nursed or had Mommy's milk.

Nevertheless, I am feeling defeated that my body could not respond to the pump, guilty that my baby is consuming something other than liquid gold, and angry that I am not with him to prevent this from happening.

Yes, I'm angry. I'm angry that even though I planned and worked so hard for my baby to only have breast milk the entire first year, he is not only having breast milk. I'm angry because I went sleepless, I fought my baby's initial weight loss and jaundice with tenacity, I've been bitten, I've gotten milk on my clothes at work before meetings, and so on. I'm mad that despite all of these efforts and sacrifices, I did not make it to my ultimate goal.

I hate being negative, and I am truly a very thankful person, but this is where I am tonight. It's a crappy thing to post about, but it is part of my breastfeeding journey, and it warrants a voice on the blog just the same...

Just Keep Nursing.

You have already read about my dealing with biting and breastfeeding. Well, things have gotten so, so much better. The phase seems to be over.

And another phase, one in which my baby now has eight gigantic chompers of death teeth, has begun.

Nom. Nom. Nom. My teeth are huge!

Because of the teeth, breastfeeding generally hurts. And I'm sore already because I think my body is trying to figure out how to regulate itself into ovulating, but it has not started having regular cycles (I had one 'real' period in late May.) So even though Gabe isn't biting, his little set of pearly whites is always rubbing me the wrong way.

It's become painful enough that I read a chapter on weaning in a breastfeeding book. I am not going to lie-- I did consider weaning because of this discomfort. But there are a few reasons I am not going to wean at this point: emotional attachment (mostly on MY part-- I am really not ready), economics, nutritional value, and the sheer fact we have made it 8.5 months on just my milk and some solids (only 3.5 to go until my ultimate goal of one year of breastfeeding!). We have to keep going.

Just keep nursing, just keep nursing, just keep nursing, nursing, nursing. (Yes, that was a reference to Finding Nemo.)

My Not So Green Thumb

When my husband and I got married in May of 2008, my bouquet was simply gorgeous. I had a small bridezilla moment (f.y.i. my only bridezilla moment-- I am proud I was a flexible bride) when I was told lilacs were not available at the end of May because they bloomed early in the 2008 year. As you can see, the bouquet was gorgeous despite the lack of my favorite flower (and I know I definitely need to write a post about our wedding sooner or later.)

What was particularly special about my bouquet? It had ivy in it. My Mom was super sweet, and she rooted the ivy after the wedding, nestling it happily in a planter. My husband and I joked the ivy was our "love fern" (alla How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days). Well, the ivy lasted just over ten days. I seriously killed it despite my earnest attempts at reviving our little ailing ivy.



And I'm at it again. My parents gave me a gorgeous planter full of luscious plants and flowers for Mother's Day, and it is slowly dying. In the case of these plants, I at least am aware it is a case of over-watering-- some of the leaves turned yellow and browned after a cycle of watering every three days.

I'm also attempting to raise an organic bell pepper plant; I purchased it at our local organic farm. I sort of feel awful about losing it, as if I adopted a puppy and then had no idea how to care for it. It seems to be doing all right, but I definitely need to get reading on how to turn it into a thriving plant.























I know that in the modern world, I do not need to be a gardener or farmer, but I would sort of like to be one. It'd be nice to know that I could, you know, keep the green things I love alive.

My birthday was on June 13, and all I asked for from my husband was a set of herbs to grow and tend. We are yet to go select them because I have been reluctant to kill more plants.

Any suggestions on plant care? My father-in-law told me I need to be especially careful of how wet the dirt feels before watering them, but other than that I have no idea where I am going with this. I have a pretty singing voice; maybe I should sing to them... (Gabe has quickly gotten tired of my Twinkle Twinkle Little Star routine-- he now prefers Daddy putting him to bed. I found out his Dad sings him Ben Folds "Narcolepsy" as a lullaby. Well, I guess we know which parent is cooler now, don't we?).

Things that Go Stink.

This is a quick post to let you all know about stink issues.

1. We are currently trying to identify and correct a slight diaper stink issue. It seems that after Gabe pees in his microfiber pocket diapers, the inserts are stuh-hinking, not horribly, but enough that sometimes I have to do a vinegar rinse to rid the smell from the diapers. We used Rockin Green Classic Rock the first two months of diapering, but then switched to Country Save when we ran out in an attempt to be even more economical. We had no smell issues while using Rockin Green. What I am trying to figure out is if the issue is not enough Country Save, too much Country Save, Country Save itself, or something else entirely. We are probably just going to order some more Rockin Green (maybe in a scent this time, wee!) to correct the issue.

2. Per my post on hair mats for oil, I was planning on donating my hair for hair booms. Well, I received my address from Matter of Trust earlier this month, just to receive another e-mail almost one day later to let me know that address was no longer valid because the warehouse was full. I feel silly, but I just don't want to get my hair cut and have the hair sitting around my house waiting to get shipped away. I also am reading in some places that the hair booms are not being used at all, but Matter of Trust ensures the public on its PR page that this hair will be used for booms at some point in the clean up for this spill or a future spill. I am frustrated, and I still need a hair cut.

In the meantime, you can watch this ironically and sadly funny video of a sardonic sketch on the oil spill:

Green Guilt: Refocusing Eco Efforts

As much as I am constantly trying to improve our family life to be healthier and greener, I have news for you: I'm not nearly perfect.

In fact, sometimes, I am careless, forgetful, and ignorant when it comes to being eco-friendly. Most of the time, I take my mistakes in stride and challenge myself to double my efforts.

But every once in awhile, I get a case of the green guilt, and I feel really icky and awful inside.

Some recent green pitfalls?

1. Bags. I have a serious forgetful problem when it comes to remembering our reusable bags to the grocery store. We seriously need to start bringing our bags. There is no more room for forgetting.

2. Coffee. Last week being my birthday weekend, I bought myself an iced coffee at Wawa. That coffee is not local, organic, fair trade, or remotely healthy. There's no reason why I can't buy some organic, fair trade coffee and brew it here to chill in our fridge for iced coffee fun. I worked in a cafe for a little while in college... it's really not hard to make your own iced coffee. And during the summer, my husband and I could drink iced coffee, decaf or caf, all day long.

So, am I alone or do you sometimes get a case of green guilt? Where do you make green mistakes? Where are you trying to focus your greening?

I am writing this post not as a lament, but as a way of refocusing our energy into some things we have not been doing. We do do lots of great things, from cloth diapering to boycotting the consumption of sold pre-packaged water (more on this later), but there is always something else to do. There's always a new green challenge ahead. This summer, I'm going to refocus with bags and coffee.

Bitten.

I've been bitten.

Sure, it had happened once or twice before, but he is doing it much more frequently, and since both Gabriel's bottom and top front teeth are now in, the biting at the breast is a whole new level of painful. In all seriousness, his top front teeth are some of the sharpest little front teeth I have ever seen. Yowzers.

Oh woe is me? Yup, I think I'll wallow a bit. I've been trying some of the "dealing with baby biting" tips on kellymom as well as hints I've been given by some helpful Moms on twitter (thank you!!), but as of yet, nothing is deterring my little Goober (... or shall we refer to him as Jaws this evening?).

It's not like breastfeeding has always been easy for me-- our first week of latching was rough, as was an entire month of feeding every two hours due to a sleepy, jaundiced baby-- but things ironed out beautifully. My supply stayed up as I began working part-time in March, and it's been a great ride.

And after seven months of almost-bliss, we're in a rough patch. Because it hurts like hell when he bites me, and I scream, yelp, and/or cry when it happens. It has happened about five times at least today, and each time I said, "No," broke suction, and stopped nursing him. To this I got smiles and babbling. I tried handing him something to teeth on and said, "It hurts when you bite Mommy. You can bite your teether." To this I got smiles and babbling. Oh, and the last time I yelped so loudly in pain it simply resulted in him crying hysterically because it scared him half to death.

So nothing has worked for us just yet. But we're trying. I just hope something starts to work soon because I'm sore and somewhat teary about the whole issue. Frankly, I used to dread pumping at work because I missed my baby, and today, for the first time, I felt relief I was pumping instead of nursing. And that made me feel awful inside. So, come on Gabriel, figure out the messages Mommy is giving you and please, stop biting me! I do not want to start pumping for your every feeding, and I honestly don't think that would work for us.

Now, I have to go work on packing for our trip to Shenandoah National Park this weekend, as well as, hmmm, put more lanolin on myself. Please share some strategies that have worked for you on stopping the biting!

Let's just get down to business here, okay?

I wish you all a Merry Christmas. I will say things are beautiful for my little family, but listen, I need to get down to business here.

I need to just come out and say this, and since you have come to a Mommy Blog, you should be prepared to read this. If you are not ready to read this, leave now. Because... I just can't stop thinking about the fact that I cannot avoid this horrible thing...

and it is called snissing.

Yes, I said snissing. This is a combination of sneezing and pissing. And it is gross. And I hate it. And it has been happening since late 3rd trimester. And I thought it would stop by now. But it has not. And I am trying very hard to strengthen things to make that NOT happen. BUT I JUST KEEP DOING IT.

Seriously, I can't laugh, either. I cracked up over Christmas sitting on my parents' chair, and I was afraid I had just flat out pee'd my pants like a sleeping child who has a bladder problem. I expected to get up and look down upon a puddle, and I was ready to waddle over to my Mom and whimper, "Mommy, I pee'd my paaaaaants," with a sigh.

Luckily, I did not do any damage. THANK GOODNESS.

The only thing that saves me when I sniss-- (yes, again, I am using the word "sniss")-- is that my husband laughs when I say the word, and he takes our child into his arms at any point in time with a smile upon the use of this word, even if the said baby is drooling with chunky spit up and is screaming bloody murder. That is to say, this is a scene from our lives yesterday night...

Me: SNEEZE. SIGH. UGHHHH. Hey babe, take the baby. I just snissed.

Husband: SMIRK. Aw, sure. You go do what you need to do. SNICKER. (kiss on the cheek for me and baby.)

Thinking about this now, I realize I should call sniss like the boy who cried wolf whenever I need a shower or want a coffee break. Hell, maybe I could call him home from work sometime on this snissing issue. "Honey, I snissed. Come home so I can change my pants." That'll work, right?

My husband probably thinks I am some gross alien being when I call sniss, but because I say the word sniss, he snickers instead. It's probably a pity-smile-because-I-knocked-you-up-and-half-caused-your-body-to-start-snissing laugh, but at least it is a laugh. And I really need a laugh after the snissing happens because it is getting old, and I want it to stop.

All in all, it's ridiculous, this snissing business. When does it end????

Note to self:

Do not eat chocolate chip granola bars while nursing baby.

Doing so may result in. . . chocolate chips leaving a stain on baby's skin, creating the appearance of a bruise. This mistaken contusion will freak Mommy out, making her wonder how baby got a bruise-- "baby is treated like gold; any bruise would be a result of something mysteriously medical. This must be bad." Mommy will start to breathe quickly worrying about baby's medical issue.

And then she will gently touch this bruise and realize it partly stains her hand. She will smell this stain and realize it smells particularly yummy. Further examining the situation, Mommy will see a chocolate chip plastered to baby's sleeper and breathe a sigh of release, smile, and murmur a small "Are you kidding me?" at the possibly-ruined baby garb.

Mommy FAIL.

Highlight/ Lowlight

High: Gabe rolled over at 6 weeks and 2 days, holy moly go baby!!!

Low: I got a freaking flat tire in my parents' neighborhood due to my own idiocy.

Now, I am waiting for my lovely husband to get back from getting a new tire so that our little fam can go Christmas shopping.