Category Archives: Lactation

>Still Milking It

>So, this may be my last post ever about nursing. I mean, I have 14 posts with the label of lactation attached, and there are probably more that I just forgot to label. But it has been a few weeks now, and while Jack did try to nurse today and threw a fit when I gave him a sippy of milk, I am still just going to call it and say he’s weaned. It’s offical. I am sure he was going to throw a fit anyway, because he was one hangry little boy. (Those of you who get hangry know what I mean right away. Thanks to my sister for sharing the term with me! Hungry+Angry=Hangry.)

I was worried that the time would fly by and I would forget what it was like to nurse my little Jack, but after a year and a half, I think we are both ready to move on. I have one more story to share that, depending on your perspective, is either adorable or disgusting, and then I retire the topic. I’m mostly writing it down for me, so I don’t forget.

In Mexico, Jack went a whole 24 hours without nursing and I thought, “Oh, that was easy!” And then the next day he wanted to nurse first thing in the morning, so we did. And he nursed for a little while and then he paused and looked up at me and said, “Num!”

>Granola, Revisited

>Once upon a time, I loved to cook and plan menus, and make delicious meals and desserts. Then Jack was born. The End.

Somehow I found myself alone in the house, and the kitchen wasn’t already disaster, so I decided to make some granola. The recipe calls for 2 cups of oats, but I usually double most of the recipe and then throw in an extra cup of oats to justify the sugar and honey and orange juice. And I don’t really measure the oats, I just get 5 scoops out of the bulk bin. And that seems just about right. So I started to make granola and I measured, heated, stirred, chopped, mixed just about everything and then I dumped the oats out into the bowl on top. But it wasn’t 5 cups/scoops. It was way, way more than that. I stirred and stirred, but it was pretty dry. So I mixed up another batch of brown sugar, orange juice, honey, vanilla, and canola oil. And I stirred and stirred and stirred. Still sort of dry. So I poured some orange juice into the bowl, with a glop of honey and some canola oil. And I stirred. Little more juice. Little drop of oil. And done.

Then I hoped it would either be disgusting, since there was no way I could ever replicate it, or really, really good, because I now had two giant tupperware containers full of it. And there was still a lot left on the tray, but I was just too tired to deal with it at that point. For the rest of the evening everyone took a handful whenever they walked by. (Why yes, there is granola all over the floor, why do you ask?) I left it out and considered myself a nice mommy for preparing Luke’s breakfast the night before. Nothing like getting up on a Saturday morning and watching cartoons while you eat homemade granola out of the pan.

And then, Saturday morning, a miracle happened.

Luke was watching cartoons and eating handfuls of granola when I walked by with Baby Jack, who had made it abundantly clear through both verbal and non-verbal communication that he was interested in nursing. I grabbed a handful of granola, ate some, handed a bite to Jack and then sat down to nurse him. And he started to nurse, and then he sat up and said, “Mo? Pees?” And he did the signs for both more and please. And he wasn’t talking about breast milk. Faster than you can imagine, I had him in his high chair, eating a bowl of granola, and he hasn’t nursed since. He has eaten a lot of granola though. It’s been 6 days now, but I still feel like I am “in the process of weaning him”. That is because, according to Dave, I am “crazy”.

>Coffee, Sweet, Sweet Coffee

>Last Saturday, Luke had an 8:00 am basketball game. I had gotten up with Jack at 5am, and when I heard Luke’s alarm go off at 5:55, I was able to murkily figure out that his clock had been set an hour ahead. Luke ran upstairs already dressed and there was no way he’d be going back to sleep, so I just went for it. By 8:45, all the laundry had been folded, breakfasts made, eaten, and cleaned up, and Luke and I were 3 quarters into a basketball game. That’s when one of the parents said to me, “Meeeeeeegan. I’m outta coooooooooffeeeeee.” I said, “Me too. And mine was decaf.” And then it occurred to me that I don’t need to suffer from caffeine deprivation anymore just because 25 months later I have gotten pregnant, given birth and am nursing a toddler.

Fast forward to Sunday morning at the Southside Walnut Cafe, where I ordered a cappuccino. Fast forward again to 10 minutes later when I was saying to Dave, “Right now, I feel like everything in my life is totally perfect. I am so happy. I am almost worried that later I’ll feel just the opposite. This bliss seems so extreme.” Dave said, “What you are feeling right now, are the effects of caffeine. And yes, you will crash later.”

You may have gotten a combined Christmas-Birthday-thank-you-Valentine-package-of-Luke’s-art. That was the first thing that Luke and I did. Then we melted down crayons and made 12 heart shaped crayon necklaces. Then I did about 17 other things, and then I was looking at something on the bottom shelf at the grocery store and when I stood up the shelves got all wonky. It was a loooong bike ride home.

It seems like caffeine and I do better meeting occasionally. On Sundays. Let’s just say I organized a lot of closets today, and leave it at that.

Photo Credit

>Diabolical

>Some of you readers may be horrified to learn that I am still nursing Jack. The reason is due more to laziness than any other sort of personal choice. I am too lazy to figure out how to wean, and way too lazy to deal with a hungry baby at 5am in some manor that involves more than stumbling into his room and sitting in a chair for 15 minutes. Also, I am sure I read somewhere that babies, on average, have and extra IQ point for every month they nurse past 6 months. OK, maybe I am making that up, but it sounds good, right?

I have also been reading online debates here and there about extended breastfeeding and whether it is “good” and “what everyone else in the world does” and “makes your kids smarter” or if it’s “icky” and “weird” and “not normal.” I often see the comment, “When they are old enough to ask for it, they are too old.” Jack does not do the sign for milk, or please, or more when he wants to nurse. He doesn’t say any of those words either. In the morning, well, we are both pretty sleepy, so he communicates with some whimpers. In the evening, if it has gotten to be past bedtime, he mostly just grabs my neckline and starts growling. So, my opinion on the whole extended breastfeeding (don’t know the actual meaning of the term – it may mean past two years) besides, “why would anyone care what someone else is doing?” is “A polite request would seem like an improvement over the growling.”

In other news, our basement is sort of a mess, and at the moment is not baby proof so we really need to keep an eye on Jack. As he headed for the end table today, Luke grabbed the remotes, Dave got the glass bottle, and I grabbed my nail polish and hid it somewhere. My pocket? Behind my back? Jack was very mad about all this, so I picked him up and started to try to console/distract him. He started growling and tugging on my shirt, so I started to nurse him. He nursed for a while. Then he got up and walked away.

He had the nail polish in his hand.

Maybe those extra IQ points aren’t such a good idea after all.

>In Some Ways, Bean is Still With Us: Part 2

>This morning I was groggily preparing breakfast for Jack after quite a night. (I went to bed late, and then was paged at 12:45, and 3:45, and Jack was up to be nursed at 5am and then up for the day at 7:30.) I was starting my work day, and cooking something for Jack and I left the cabinet open, and Jack helped himself to a tube of graham crackers. I didn’t think he could open them, and he was having a great time walking around crinkling. With all the crinkling, I knew where he was without having to watch him, so it seemed like a great way to keep him occupied for 3 minutes. Then for some reason, I walked down the hallway and back. When I got back, Jack had half a graham cracker in each hand and the balance in his mouth. He was smiling and saying, “Nom! Nom nom nom!” Cracker crumbs were tumbling down his pjs and all over the floor.

Cute, funny, not all that harmful. I plopped him into his highchair and gave him the rest of his breakfast. But where were the rest of the graham crackers? Where was the bag? I walked around looking to no avail. Then Luke woke up and asked what I was doing. I said, “I think Jack hid a bag of graham crackers somewhere so he could snack whenever he wanted.” In their short time together, Bean really did some serious knowledge transfer.

Ten minutes later Luke was yelling, “I hear crinkling! Jack is feeding himself a snack!” And Jack was indeed, behind the curtains in the dining room, helping himself to a cracker.

>Panic Attack Magazine

>I have sworn off Parents magazine, hilariously referred to as Panic Attack Magazine in Baby Blues, and by one of the nurses at my OB’s office as One Thousand and One Ways Your Kids Could Die Magazine. But that’s all there was to read in the lactation room yesterday, so I told myself to just read it for the crafts, advertising, and halloween costumes. I swore I wouldn’t read any of the recall notices, milestone alerts, “it happened to me” horror stories, or parenting tips.

But then I got to the section on what to do in cases of emergencies, and I thought maybe I could use some brushing up on my first aid. So I read what to do in case of burns. Always good to know what to do in the case of a burn. Next section: Tornadoes. OK, I could use a refresher on that. Next: Bear attacks. I have bear-aphobia, so this looked like a good read. There was a lot of info on black bears, who normally don’t attack you. Grizzly bears, not so much info beyond: Grizzlies are not found East of the Rocky Mountains. Thanks a lot, Parents magazine! I guess your demographic is more Midwest/East Coast? Blood pressure rising. Next up: What do to if your car becomes submerged in water while driving? What!? Seriously? Who needs this kind of info? Who will remember it when it happens? And since it was presented as
1.)Problem
2.) Myth about how to solve problem
3.) Actual way to solve problem – OK, now all I remember is the myth, and not the actual way to solve the problem. Maybe because I tossed the magazine aside in disgust before I read what to do. For future reference, if your car is sinking in a lake, don’t wait for the car to become completely submerged and the pressure to equalize before you get out. That is a MYTH!

So I stormed off to complain about Parents magazine to Carolyn and she agreed that we’d never remember what do to if any of those freak accidents happened to us. But that maybe if I tore out the article and acted like an authority on under water car accidents that my mom would feel more comfortable going on drives with me.

>The Balance Myth

>I have a lot to say about the B word. (Balance.) But I don’t really have time to write the whole post now. I was thinking about it on the way to a work meeting at around 7:10 am this morning, at Jack’s 9 month check up, on and off during work, while I was riding my bike to the school meeting where I volunteered to be the kindergarten liaison, and I thought some more while I was nursing Jack to sleep, and then while Dave and I were picking up the house. Then I rode my bike to Andrea’s house to make a peanut butter sandwich for Luke’s lunch box since she lives halfway to the grocery store and we were out of peanut butter. So ideas are percolating about the balance myth. Just an FYI about what I am working on, in my little, sleep deprived brain.

Jack Report: He is meeting milestones like a champ, and he weighs 17 pounds, 6 ounces. This is slightly below the 10% percentile. He’s been right at 10 for his whole life and a little drop at 9 months is to be expected since he is so active. Of course, he is 9.5 months, but whatev. 50% for height and 25% for head size.

Luke Report: He did not get the milk! My powers are not as strong as I thought. I am just going to get him a thermos, I guess. At the meeting today a subcommittee was formed to discuss why 15 minutes isn’t enough time for lunch and what can be done about it. If Luke doesn’t want to waste precious eating time, trying to buy milk, I guess I can deal with it. He also came home yesterday and the day before in a very good mood and he made a friend at after school care so all is right with the world. (He now has $29.50 in his online account but I suppose he can use that up over the next 12 or 13 years.)

Megan Report: Speaking of milk, the daycare has been saying I am not sending enough milk and I have been stressing. Jack’s weight drop stressed me even more. I asked the Dr. about it, and I said the only thing I can think to do is add a late night pumping session. He said mother nature is in charge and Jack is doing fine. Whatever I pump is enough and I would be better off going to bed instead of trying to pump one more time. Yea! A tremendous weight has been lifted!

>Milestone Miscellaneous

> Since I am sure no one wants to hear the milk and bottle disaster from this morning, I am just going to skip over it. Have you ever smelled milk and thought maybe it’s bad, but I should taste it just to be sure? Isn’t that dumb?

In other news, I wanted to post this picture because it’s what inspired me to write all about Jack’s new milestones. But I forgot to include the picture, and the fact that he had his first bath in the real tub. Yea! And you can almost see his two new teeth here, which I also forgot to include in the milestone announcement. Speaking of milestones, we are rapidly approaching my 100th post. V. exciting. Also, it’s almost the 19th of July, which I haven’t quite turned into a holiday where people send me gifts, but I always get good wishes on that day. More on that later. So I was thinking of having a joint 19th of July, 100th post celebration, where I encourage people to post a comment and then I randomly pick a winner and send them a prize. The prize is to be determined, but I welcome suggestions. One very talented, funny, and famous blogger recently gave away 5 wii+wii sports to random commenters and she got 42000 comments. Nintendo hasn’t offered me anything yet, so my prize would probably be something lying around the house that I don’t want anymore. Or something I could send through the internets without having to do anything more strenuous than get my credit card out of my wallet. Assuming I can find my wallet and that my credit card is in there. Hopefully no one in my family will include in their comment that it takes me months to get to the post office. I only wish I had bought some kitschy trinkets in Hot Springs. Stay tuned and plan to comment on the 19th of July!

>L’eggo My Lego

>This morning, it was my turn to do the day care drop off, and before Dave left he helped me make sure everyone was dressed, sunscreened, fed and ready for school. Then as he was leaving he noticed we only cleared half the dinner dishes. From the front porch. Classy! This is important to the story because I think some baby food dripped onto the floor when he was bringing dishes in. I hope it was baby food at least.

Dave was out the door on his bike, and I was making the first trip out to the garage to load up my bike. Pump, lunch, bottles, attach trailer to bike. On my way out the door I heard, “Ewww! Yuck! Ewww! What is that?! Eww!” It looked like a tiny drip of baby food. It was brown and gooey, so let’s just all agree that it was baby food. I said I would wipe it up in a second after I got back in from the garage because my hands were full.

Before I could finish attaching the trailer to the bike, Luke was at the door sobbing. “He ate it! Bean ate it!” The baby food? Sweet, problem solved. “NO! He ate my green lego! He ate it, and it’s gone and now I will never, ever, ever be able to make the castle again! I want you to get it out of him!” Hmm, well, yeah I can’t do that. I do suspect that the lego must have had baby food on it too, because Bean doesn’t really eat plastic unless it is wrapped around cheese, chocolate, tortillas, cookies, any other type of food, or garbage. And the baby food spot on the floor had disappeared too so at least I didn’t have to clean that up. But the really bad part was that I have been reading Parents magazine (aka 1001 ways your kids could die magazine) in the lactation room, so instead of saying, “That is what you get for not putting your toys away” or even “Hey, maybe leaving your legos on the floor is a bad idea!” I had to say, “Wow, I bet you are really sad that Bean ate your lego. I understand how you feel. I don’t like it when Bean eats my things either.” This was supposed to calm him down.

It didn’t work, of course and when we were 3 blocks away he mentioned that his teeth were covered in boogers from all the sobbing. I contemplated my options but I didn’t see any soft leaves around, and I didn’t want to use my shirt to clean him up, so I road home to get kleenex. Which he used to wipe the boogers off his teeth. Off. His. Teeth. I just threw up a little thinking about it.

Then we rode another block and I started trying to cheer him up by mentioning that today was field trip day! Yea! Field trip day! And that is when I remembered that I forgot the car seat. So I turned around and got the car seat. And then we rode the rest of the way to school and work and I got there sometime just slightly before lunch.