Practical Advice for Bun Ovens

My sister-in-law is pregnant with the spawn of my brother a precious gift of God.  They are due in early summer and will be first-time parents.  Remember those days?  You were filled with anticipation and had NO friggin' idea exactly how much you used to love sleeping?   

At one of my baby showers, my girlfriend Mama Mia gave me some "advice."  (She bought me a real gift too, lest I never speak to her again.)  I have since added/adjusted/amended the list and given it as part of a baby shower gift.  Just another way for me to grace the universe with my unsolicited opinion . . . 

No, really, Mommy . . . you should try to get some rest.

PRACTICAL ADVICE

(which you may, of course, choose to ignore)

compiled by BoyMommy

CEO: BoyMommy Family Household

I.               My favorite brands:

* I am not receiving any compensation from the following brands, but if they would like to throw some money my way, I will gladly accept it.  

a.      Diapers & wipes – Pampers

b.     Car seats – Graco Snug Ride (infant) and then Britax Roundabout and Britax Marathon, in age-appropriate order

c.      Socks – Children’s Place

d.     Footie Pajamas – Children’s Place

e.      Sippy Cups – Platex  (Gerber sippies have stoppers that fall loose every time Baby drops the cup.  Platex stoppers stay in better.)

f.      Gas Drops – Store brand  (Mylicon is expensive, and let’s face it . . . they’re GAS drops; how different can they all be?)

g.      Pain Reliever – Motrin lasts longer than Tylenol

h.     Bible – What to Expect the First Year

i.       Bottles – Dr. Brown’s are the “new thing” but I’m not sure it makes much difference.  HOWERVER, if Baby is colicky you're willing to try anything to please for-the-love-o'-pete-make-it-stop.

j.      Diaper Crème – Desitin

* my computer thinks I'm all fancy and French and keeps adding that little thingy to the top of the e.  Still doesn't change the fact that it goes on Baby's poop chute.

k.      Sleep Bras (if you nurse) – Motherhood

l.       Nursing camisoles - Target

m.    Maternity clothes – Motherhood, Gap Maternity (online), Kohls, Target

II.            Things I wish I’d known:

a.      Nipple confusion is bullsh*t.  I wouldn’t let the nurses give Large a pacifier because I was worried about nipple confusion.  (Because I was an expert . . . I mean I HAD been a mother for a few hours now . . . )  Trust me – babies know where their next meal’s comin’ from.

b.     Unless you know you’re going to be transferring Baby from one car to the other a lot, don’t bother with an extra base.  We’ve used a car seat in Daddy’s car maybe 5 times total. 

c.      Register for BIG items, even if you’re not going to use them right away.  It’s easy to store things like the high chair/swing/exersaucer in their original boxes until you need them, and then you won’t have to run out and buy them yourselves later.  These make great gifts for people (like co-workers) who want to pool their money for one big gift.  Don’t register for clothes – you’ll get a ton of those anyway, especially if you already know what you’re having.

d.     Shave your legs, get your toes done, get your eyebrows waxed, and get your hair cut about a week before Baby’s arrival.  It may not happen again for a loooooong time.  And buy some good ponytail holders.  Personal hygiene is the first to go.

e.      Invest in a good quality glider.  Baby doesn’t care if his/her dresser matches the crib, etc, but YOU will appreciate having a comfy place to sit in in the wee hours of the morning.  You don’t want a hard rocking chair that makes your butt stiff.

f.      Register online at Pampers.com, Gerber.com, Enfamil.com, Similac.com, etc, even if you plan to nurse.  They’ll send you free coupons, and even if you don’t use the formula coupons, you can trade them with a girlfriend for something you will use, like diapers.

g.      Ask your pediatrician for samples of formula and pain reliever.

III.          If you plan to Nurse:

a.      Don’t go cheap on the nursing bras.  Target has In Due Time brand nursing camisoles that look like little tanktops.  They run a little small, so you might want to try on first.  (I wore a 2x – I know I’m not a LITTLE girl, but come on!)  Motherhood has good bras too, but don’t forget – their return policy is not very forgiving.  I love their sleep bras – not very supportive, but enough to keep you from leaking.

b.     Take Lansinoh gel with you to the hospital and apply it EVERY time you nurse.  Breastfeeding hurts.  The La Leche Nazis will not tell you this because they want you to keep trying.  Consult with the Lactation Consultant at the hospital and get used to the fact that not only has your doctor been elbow-deep into your hoo-ha, now a very grandmotherly lady that you don’t know will be feeling you up. 

c.      The Lactation Consultant should also have these little gel pads that fit right over your nippy to help soothe the soreness.  They’re expensive, but SO worth it.  You can put them in the fridge and cool them before you apply.  I know it sounds weird right now, but please take my word for it.  You can also buy them at the store (Gerber, I think) but they aren’t as good as the ones you can get from the Lactation Consultant.

d.     If you buy a breast pump, get a good one.  I have a Medela and I love it.  I actually used it quite a bit.  I registered for it so I wouldn’t have to shell out all that money myself.  It is LOUD.  A 757 could pass overhead but you wouldn't hear it over the sound of the Human Milker.

e.      No one will tell you this: when you do the s-e-x, you might leak from your boobs.  It is very strange and can really ruin a moment.  (Also, invest in some K-Y because nursing makes you extra dry.) 

f.      Lansinoh also makes disposable nursing pads to keep any leaking from showing through during the day.  I tried to save money by using cloth ones that I could reuse, but they’re a lot thicker and they’re pretty obvious.  I wore nursing pads for about 6 months with all 3 boys.

IV.            Other odds and ends:

a.      Keep all blankets you get as gifts.  I thought I had way too many, but if you have a puker, like my own little Yacky McVomit (AKA Medium) then you’ll need a lot of clean blankets.

b.     Miracle Blanket (online) has great swaddling blankets which I think work WONDERS in the first few weeks.  I got one as a gift for Medium and I wish I’d had one with Large. 

c.      Every parent will tell you something different, but personally, we’re firm believers in the Ferber Method at about 3.5-4 months old.  I think it’s REALLY important for your own sanity that you teach your baby to sleep on his/her own.  I also know it’s REALLY hard to listen to your baby cry for you.  But it’s a few nights of pure hell (maybe a week?) that pays off in the long run.

d.      Gymboree is very expensive and I have been very happy with the cheap classes I have taken through the park authority.

e.      Malls, Libraries, and Bookstores have a lot of free kid programs.  Check them out online.

f.      A pacifier tether will help keep Baby’s binky close at hand.  So when you’re driving down the highway at 60 miles an hour, you can reach behind you and easily find the binky because Baby can only spit it out so far.

g.     I LOVED my Baby Bjorn.  Expensive, but totally worth it.

h.       No one needs a wipes warmer.  (Although a friend told me their wipes would freeze in the winter, and they used one, so perhaps . . . PERHAPS . . . I'm not an expert.)

i.      Join a mom’s group.  You can look online – just google "mom’s club" – and you should be able to track one down in your area.  Motherhood is very isolating, especially at first.  It’s vital that you remember you are not alone.

j.      Be honest with your doctor.  Having baby blues is normal, but there’s NO reason for you to suffer unnecessarily. 

k.       MOST IMPORTANT: Sleep while Baby sleeps!  You will not get a significant chunk of sleep for MONTHS, (maybe years,) so you have to get it while you can.  The dishes and vacuuming will be there later.  Your time is better spent with Baby and you’ll be a better mommy if you are better rested.

The Birds and the Bees

It’s time.

Our curious boys are starting to ask significant questions about babies and how they get in a mommy’s belly.

I just have a hard time wrapping my head around the need to tell an eight-year-old, who still believes in Santa, the Elf on the Shelf, and the Tooth Fairy, about the Birds and the Bees.

It used to be that they were curious about the differences between boys and girls.  Large once (at a packed movie theatre line in Manhattan, of course) reached up, touched my boob, and asked “why do you have these?”  Hubby told him, “everybody has them.  You have them.”  Large’s response?  “Not as big as Mommy’s!”  We explained that girls have them so that they can feed their babies when the time is right. 

I nursed all our kids, so eventually this all made sense to him.  Naturally, he was a little inquisitive when we brought Small home, but both Large and Medium seemed to accept the idea that Mommy was feeding the baby.  No big deal.

And as far as differences go, we have explained that when they go to a friend’s house for a sleepover and the friend has a sister, we wear pajamas, not just our skivvies, and act appropriately.  Just because we all pee with the door open around here (some of us by choice, and some of us because there is no friggin’ privacy anywhere in this house) doesn’t mean we do so in mixed company. 

Lately, however, the questions have been coming more frequently.  We want to keep those lines of communication open and we have told the boys that they should always ask us if they need an answer instead of discussing it on the bus or on the playground, etc., because Mommy and Daddy are always going to tell them the truth.

I’m afraid the time has come.  To tell them The Truth.

I’m persweaty already.

We fielded a lot of questions when I was pregnant with Small. 

• How did the baby get in your belly?  Well, when Mommy and Daddy love each other and decide they want to have a baby, the Mommy gets pregnant.

•  How come the babysitter doesn’t have a baby in her belly?  She’s not married. 

• Uncle Justin’s not married and he has a baby.  Dammit, Justin!

• How is the baby going to get out of your belly?  When the time is right, Mommy will go to the hospital and the doctor will get the baby out.

But recently we’ve been getting more detailed questions as their little brains process the logic behind all our previous answers.

• Where’s your penis?  Girls and boys are different.  Girls don’t have penises.

• Why do you have hair there?  Because I haven’t had time to get a wax.

• Do Mommy dogs have babies?  Yes

• Then how do their puppies get out of the dog's belly?  Um, they go to the Vet.

• Do you have a baby in your belly?  Nope.  Just fat.  Thanks.

• How come you don’t have a baby in your belly right now?  Our family is complete already.

• How do mommies get babies in their belly?  Remember I told you?  When mommies and daddies love each other . . .

• But don’t you always love Daddy?

Yikes.

We also discovered the other day that Large thinks the doctor gives Mommy a shot and then she gets pregnant.  Learned that one on the bus.

So I think it’s time to offer some clarification. 

Personally, I learned the details from a friend in 4^th grade.  Her parents had sat her down and explained it all and I remember thinking that her parents must have thought she was mature enough to handle it.  I went home and asked my mom, but . . . crickets.

I was in high school before my mom left Ann Landers Talks to Teenagers About Sex on my bed.  Because when you think Sex, you think middle-aged-advice-columnist Ann Landers.  She had checked it out from the library.  I read it from cover to cover in one afternoon and took it back downstairs to my mom, who returned it the next day.  We never spoke of it again.  That was my complete lesson in sex education.  

I don’t want my boys learning from some kid on the bus who doesn’t have all the facts.  And I don’t want them learning from a teacher who is required to use technical terminology deemed appropriate by the public school system.

It is OUR responsibility.  I want to treat the boys with respect and help them realize they can ask us anything.  I’ve got to put my own issues aside.  I’ve told Hubby we either need to do it together or he needs to Man up.  (Because I know if we do Rock, Paper, Scissors I’m SO gonna lose.)

Stay tuned . . . this could get interesting.

My New Year's Resolutions

My New Years Resolutions:

1. Stop flirting with Gay Salespeople.  I love Patrick at the furniture store because he has fabulous shoes and he looks like he should have his own show on HGTV.  And I love the salesman at the Gymboree Outlet because he called me Sweetheart, and I’m pretty sure he’d give me extra GymBucks if we were BFFs.  The problem is that I want to be friends with these people so much that I often want to reach across the counter and embrace them in a giant bear hug, but I’m worried that they might find this a tad stalkerish.  Also, I need to stop assuming that every gay man I meet would be a good match for my friend Mike.  Because assuming he and Mike would be a good match is like saying, “you’re from California?  Hey do you know _____?  He’s from California too!”

2. Stop considering Us Weekly and People Magazine my primary news sources.  I have no idea what’s going on in Congress and I’m only vaguely aware of some controversy with one of the Koreas, but I do know that Jake and Taylor broke up and that Sandra has been linked to Ryan Reynolds, recently split from ScarJo.

3. Refrain from thinking hateful thoughts about the trainers at the gym.  They are doing their jobs and it is through no fault of theirs that every mirror in the joint reflects my wobbly bits in all their jiggly glory.  Furthermore, it is doubtful that they are a part of a giant conspiracy to hurt me.

4. Accept the fact that Old Navy jeans do not flatter me.  Just because I can button them doesn’t mean they fit. 

5. Break the Cardigan Habit.  Dude.  I’m strung out on the Cardigans, man . . .

pregnant bridesmaid cardigan

Thanksgiving carve-the-roast-beast cardigan

the Most Magical Place on Earth cardigan 

Central Park cardigan

  

Canadian tea cardigan

Book Club at the Melting Pot cardigan

6.  Go to Target and/or Starbucks at least once a week.  Preferably both.  (It’s important to set realistic, attainable goals.

7.  Expand my cooking repertoire beyond Grilled Cheese, Nuggets, and Fish Sticks.  I declare 2011 the year my children will eat vegetables.  The real ones; not the baby food kind I sneak into their pasta sauce.

8.  Try not to cringe every time Hubby says “coulda went,” because it’s time to recognize that, after 17 years together, he’s doing it just to irritate me.  Who says CPAs don’t have a sense of humor?

9.  Stop referring to my boobs as “the Baby Feeders” at parties, as it makes people feel uncomfortable.  For example, (hypothetically of course,) when we’re at a New Year’s Eve party and I say, “Hey, easy with the dice there, chief!  You just hit me in the right Baby Feeder,” the pastor sitting at the other end of the table will be rendered speechless while the rest of the room erupts in nervous laughter.  Hypothetically.  Also, in the future, it might be helpful to determine the other party-goers’ line of work before making reference to said body parts.

10.  Get on the scale at Weight Watchers without preempting it with “Um, I’ve made some bad decisions this week.”  The WW lady will know this once she reads the scale; no need to announce it ahead of time.    

There ya have it, folks.  Happy 2011 to you!

The Glamorous Life of a Nursing Mom

 

Trust me . . . I know from experience.
This WILL leave a mark.

Here I am!  Worry not; I’m still alive.  My fan(s) have been restless, awaiting the return of my wit and sarcasm.  Well, ONE fan, but she’s also the woman who once sucked on a Tupperware cup for so long that it actually suctioned to her face until she had a perfectly-formed circle around her mouth that lasted for days – so I’m not sure how much stock I want to put in her opinion.  Granted, we were like seven, but it still makes me laugh.

Anyhoo.  I’ve been busy raising my little ones and trying to keep my head out of the oven.  It has been a trying couple weeks.  I think Small’s nursing days are numbered.  The plan was for me to nurse as long as possible in hopes that I could get to around one year.  I’m a little creeped out by babies/toddlers/preschoolers/college-bound adolescents who still nurse, but who am I to judge.  Small is now seven months old, but he has developed some rather unsettling new habits:

1. He bites.  Hard.  I know this is common, but when your child is clamping down with his vise-like chompers and then shaking his head from side-to-side until tears come to your eyes, it’s time to reevaluate.  And in the Too Much Information category, we have this delightful little nugget – he bites so hard that my nippy turns white.  It literally drains of color.  That can’t be good.
2. He has started playing kazoo with my milk bags.  He’s learning to make noises, which is cute and all, but I really wish he wouldn’t practice his new musical talent while he’s eating.  I like him to concentrate on the business at hand with the appropriate amount of efficiency and decorum.  Small, however, has taken to latching on and then blowing raspberries while humming.  Pause here for that visual to sink in.
3. I’m tired of wearing undergarments that are more functional than fun.  I do not have a disposable income that allows me to purchase several sexy $50 Elle MacPherson nursing bras.  My budget is more of the Target variety.  Therefore I have tan, cotton, functional nursing bras that are washed so often that the elastic falls in little cascades under my armpits.  
4. Small’s aim is not always what it should be and he has been known to try to latch on to the roll of fat UNDER my boob, which does wonders for my self-esteem.  Seriously, I think he assumes I have four udders. 
5. There is no subtle way to nurse this child.  He slurps and sucks as if it is his last meal, and he squirms so much he usually kicks the Hooter Hider off – which kinda defeats the purpose of Hiding the Hooters.  (WHY didn’t I invent this, by the way?)

Piranha. 

Nursing has been an adventure, right from the very beginning.  I remember being in the hospital with Large and being positioned in the awkward contortion of a New Mommy (you know, shoulders hunched up, nervous smile, boob in hand) when my brother walked in, saw me, said “Eeeeeeeee,” and walked out.  We have never discussed this moment.  Nor will we. 

No one ever told me about nursing pads either, so I had no idea they even existed when I brought my first child home.  (We also came home and realized we didn't have any diapers except those we had taken from the hospital.  Brand new nursery furniture?  Check.  Tons of cute baby clothes?  Check.  Diapers?  Hmmmm . . . . )  My dad, ever observant, commented on my wet shirt one day.  I must have looked like I had faucets running underneath my clothes as I dripped from the chest down. 

“You’re leaking,” he said. 

He’s a man of many words. 

I'm sorry, but it's just weird to know there's a little person sucking on you while you're trying to have a conversation with your father.  He’d laugh nervously when I’d say “release the hounds” every time I’d get ready to nurse.  Just trying to break the tension of having a familial audience as I prepared to nourish my child.

In the beginning, I would search out nursing lounges in every mall I visited and I would trek from one end to the other in order to find one.  With Medium, I learned that visiting a dressing room was just as easy – there was a place to sit and Large could entertain himself in the mirror while I got down to business.  Now that Small is here, however, I have two energetic boys in my charge, so I don’t always have the luxury of seeking out privacy.  I have whipped my boobs out in Wegmans, in the stands of a college football game, and at the Strawberry Hill horse races.  I have no shame.  I’m quite sure most of my friends have seen one and/or both of my boobs over the course of our acquaintance. 

I have never been asked to leave an establishment.  (Not for nursing, anyway.)  I have endured the curious stares of children, the furrowed brows of older women, and the averted glances of men who are trying not to seem perverted.  And Large and Medium have learned all about mammals even though I STILL can’t find an answer when they ask why they have nippies.  I don’t know son.  I just don’t know.