Back to Work Blues (Sniff, Sniff)

THIS SUCKS!  I’m going back to work after 8 weeks of maternity leave.  Grrr.  I don’t think my mental capacity is fully functioning.  Did that make sense?  I don’t know if I should be out in public.  My husband is acting like it’s the end of summer and he’s sending his child back to school.  Well, I do have that end of summer brain drain feeling.  My instinct is to hold my baby and stare at him all day.  Work sort of puts a crick in my plans.  I should say that my husband gave me a digital picture frame for my office and filled it with baby photos.  It’s my first Mother’s Day present.  I guess he’s trying to help ease the transition.  I heard that I should look at baby pictures while breast pumping at work.  Hmm.  Luckily, I have my own office and they put a lock on my door.  Otherwise, I’d have to make a sign that says “Breast pumping” as opposed to “In a meeting” or “Conference call”.  Maybe I’ll make a sign just to see what happens.  Maybe a picture sign would be better.  I can make all those male attorneys squirm.  Ha!  I just Googled breastfeeding signs and there is an official international breastfeeding symbol!  Love it!  This might make returning to work bearable.  Hmm.

http://www.breastfeedingsymbol.org

Next topic: Do smiles mean spit up?

Smother Love

Smother love.  Not me!  It’s my dogs.  They are driving me crazy.  I have two chocolate labs.  They are brother and sister and from the same litter.  They aren’t little either.  The male is about 100 pounds and the female is about 90 pounds.  I think the male must be part Great Dane.  They have calmed down in their old age, but still.  Since I’ve been home with my little baby boy, going on seven weeks now, they have hovered around me like flies to honey.  They orbit my feet making me feel like I’m weighed down, claustrophobic.  I get that same feeling when my boots get caked with Carolina red clay when I’m working in the yard on a rainy weekend.  If I move from one end of the kitchen to the other, they follow.  If I go to bathroom, they bust open the door.  If I lay on the floor, they go crazy and roll over.  When I nurse, they lay on my feet and sniff the baby.  I’m already sleep-deprived and low in iron.  My dogs have put me over the edge.  It’s more than guarding.  They smother.  I’m the one who is suppose to be smothering!  I understand they were the babies and now there is a new baby in the house, but still.  Help.  Got to love labs.

Grit Your Teeth And…

Whoa.  Where did that week go?  This is supposed to be a weekly blog and somehow I missed a week in a blur of breastfeeding, diapers, burps, farts and poop.  Also, parents.  Or I should say grandparents.  It’s like a weird stream of consciousness but only in a state of semi-consciousness because of the lack of sleep.  Baby Bear is actually sleeping now.  Probably because he’s strapped to my chest and I’m swaying as I write.  He’s snoring like his grandpa.  Honestly, my mother can kick up a pretty good snore too.  This works great until he rouses and starts trying to nurse through my sweatshirt.

During the week that slipped away, I had the opportunity to experience a poo poo bath.  I decided to put Baby Bear in the tub with me so that I could more easily let him splash around in the water.  After a very serious look, he spit up, then peed, then pooped, and then spit up again.  I was in shock as baby poos floated around legs in the tub water and began to disintegrate.  My husband tried scooping out the poos through snorts of laughter but it was no use.  I handed off Baby Bear and began clearing out the tub to start over.  Such a precious moment that I will keep with me forever.

My parents also visited during the blur week.  You would think that after you turn 65 you would forget about diets and simply eat whatever the hell you wanted.  Not my parents.  They enjoy sharing all their new diet ideas that they discovered in some health book.  That includes bringing all the weird teas, powders and health bars to my house and then leaving them for me to find later.  My mom also likes to bring used items and present them as gifts like belated Christmas presents.  Old socks and underwear that don’t fit her anymore.  Washclothes, pants that are too big for me, shirts from the 80’s.  Last time they brought a salt and pepper shaker because they didn’t like mine.

My dentist once asked me whether I was a “type A” personality.  I thought he certainly must mean calm, intelligent and kind.  Chill, maybe.  Down to earth.  When I asked what he meant by that he said, you know and made a face with gritted his teeth.  I must have looked at him like he was crazy because he further explained that I not only clinch my teeth in my sleep but I also grind my teeth back and forth.  The dentist thought I must have an anxiety disorder since I was slowly wearing away my teeth down to nothing.  Maybe the last six weeks (the first six weeks) have increased my grinding and gritting.  Or maybe my enamel has improved now that I don’t really sleep more than 4 or 5 hours (when lucky).  That way I don’t have the time to grind for very long.  Maybe having children is good for your health or at least your teeth.