A Blast From the Past

I was riding home from the grocery store yesterday when this song popped into my head. Most of the time I still feel like that little, pre-teen girl who watched this movie over and over again to learn the words: "I'm hot, and you're not...if you wanna hang with me I'll give it one shot!"

How does life go by so fast?! I hope kids now-a-days know that their movies are CRAP compared to the ones we had: Teen Witch...Babysitter's Club...come on!!


It's Baaaaaccckk...

First of all, I would like to point out that it is July...not April...so no-one can accuse me of pulling an April Fools joke. I wish that I was joking. I do.

I have been having achy flu-like pains for about 5 days now...and I thought that maybe I was coming down with some kind of cold/sinus/junk. When I woke up Saturday morning with a 103.8 fever and a large, painful mass in my right breast I knew that it wasn't the cold/sinus/junk...it was the devil. The devil has taken up residence in my right boob and he is never going to leave. never.

I called my doctor to tell her that my mastitis was back, and right after I convinced her that I was not kidding she says to me words that you never, ever want a doctor to say to you: "No-one in our practice has ever seen a case of mastitis as virulent as yours. We are seriously considering writing a paper about you for a medical journal". Great. Awesome. Can we get to the part where you prescribe me some medicine so that my publication-worthy-ailment GOES AWAY?!

"Oh. About that. If it is the same strain of infection that you had last time (which it probably is) than there is a good chance that it will not respond to antibiotics." I am crying at this point. Sobbing, really. Feeling as sorry for myself as sorry can be. It is not a proud moment. She says that she will call me in a prescription for Bactrum (which made me feel better last time) but that my infection has probably cultivated a resistance to that, too...my instructions are to call her back in 48 hours if the infection has not gotten better...at which point my options are to wait it out and hope it goes away on its own, or wait it out until it gets bad enough to require surgery. Either way: waiting...it...out... In pain. For a long time. With a 103.8 fever. Sounds great, thanks...I'll take the crappiest option in the world.

So here I am, 72 hours into my antibiotic (which is not working) and I haven't called yet because I do not really want to know what my OB-GYN is going to tell me. I mean, I know what she is going to tell me...but I do not want to hear it. I so badly do not want to hear it that I might just superglue a pair of earmuffs to my head.

So...here's where you come in cyber-friends...please please pray that this infection somehow resolves itself on its own (preferably sooner rather than later) and that no surgery is required (although I have half a mind to cut my boob off myself...If my boob were a person I would never speak to it again after this ordeal).

I will end this post on a good note: my beautiful, smooshy, cabbage-patch-doll of a daughter is a smiling machine.

I mean really...she is so adorable that it hurts (almost as much as having Satan himself in my mammary).


Back to Basics

So here is something that I am super excited about: we are back on the breastfeeding train! During my first bout with mastitis I was in so much pain and completely frustrating with breastfeeding that I gave it up in favor of pumping and feeding Evie my milk in bottle form. Before giving birth, breastfeeding was something that was incredibly important to me...but I was completely unprepared for the world of hurt that it turned out to be.

Fast forward three weeks: my mastitis is gone and I had been thinking about giving breastfeeding a second try...but I was feeling a little apprehensive. I was scared that one bad latch and I would be back at square one, and I was also scared that Evie just wouldn't be willing to go back after being on the bottle for so long. Long story short, she was willing to go back...after a couple of days working at it, we are back to breastfeeding. We are still giving her a bottle a couple of times a day (how else would my wonderful husband be able to take the night feeding!?)

I am one very happy mama...and Evie is pretty pleased, too!


Why My Triceps are Going to be Awesome...

I mean...your life doesn't really change all that much when you have a baby. You just have to function as though you ONLY HAVE ONE ARM. Basically...having a baby is like becoming an amputee...except that instead of getting an indestructible, titanium limb in its place you get a squirmy little ball of chub that coos.

Are we destined to eat meals like this for the rest of our lives? It does make dinner-time interesting, at least.


A Love Affair

My husband has a new woman in his life...and I can't really fault him. She is gorgeous, sweet, and has a beautiful smile. Evie, as it turns out, is already a bit of a Daddy's girl. I took this picture last night right before her bedtime while she and Graham were flirting.

It took me a while to mop his heart up off of the nursery floor after it had melted.



Evie has a talent that I'm sure is destined to make us rich, if only we can convince the Olympic Committee that it qualifies as a sport.

The other day I was sitting in her nursery talking to Graham while he changed her diaper...and then it happened. Poop had sprung from her tiny little, pint-sized bottom, up into the air...SEVERAL FEET up into the air...and rained down over the entire changing table. The look on Graham's face was an odd mix of astonishment and pride. There was nothing to do but laugh...until:

Graham: "If I had been holding her legs up any higher that would have hit you in the face".

Not. Funny.

In other news: Congratulations to Lauren, who is the winner of the Due Date Pool. She will be getting one of the awesome prints from Etsy.

In other, other news: One of my friends is a featured guest-blogger on Momversation. Way to go, Amanda!!



For the past four weeks I have been living with the paralyzing fear that, if I ever decided to take Evie out of the house...she...might...cry. Babies cry, you might say, but you have never heard MY baby cry. She gets herself going and it is as though you have just severely pissed off the most temperamental, violent Billy Goat on the face of the Earth. At times it wouldn't surprise me completely if her head started rotating around in circles.

Anyways...I have been living with this fear, which has kept me in the house 90% of the time (and has kept her in the house 100% of the time) and then...today...We. Went. Out.

And she DIDN'T CRY. In fact, she SLEPT...all cozied up in her little sling while her daddy and I perused the veggies, breads, fruits and handmade soaps at the Coventry Farmers Market. I feel as though I have conquered the world. I'm pretty sure I have.


You Know Things are Good...

When your life starts to mirror the words in country music songs...

But seriously...this song MELTS. MY. HEART.
(and it reminds me to just take it all in, even when it's hard. especially when it's hard)


Pity. Party.

It's official...my boobs have never caused me anything but trouble. They got me mocked and teased from day one (when they appeared, literally overnight, in the 6th grade)...and now they are making life awesome YET again. Ever since Evie came home from the hospital I have been trying to get over a nasty case of mastitis. My doctors have switched my antibiotics four (yes...FOUR) times...and right now my milk is being cultured at the hospital to see why in the WORLD I am one of the lucky few whose infection doesn't seem to respond to...well...anything.
Until it does begin to respond to something, I am actually getting REST (I didn't think that word was supposed to exist in a new mom's vocabulary) because Graham's Aunt Karen (AKA my HERO) has been loving on Evie while I sleep, pump, eat, take meds, and repeat.

but, really...how could anyone feel that bad for themselves when they have something this beautiful sleeping next to them...excuse me while I go join my sugar-pie in dreamland.