30 Minutes and I'm Taking Every One of Them

If you aren't a mom this post will hold very little interest for you. Sorry for the terribly unpromising start, but my kids are watching a Baby Einstein video and I NEED to blog.

I hate nursing. I have tried very hard not to hate it. And I probably don't hate it every single day. I've tried every method of nursing--on demand, schedules, two sides per feeding, one side each time, pumping . . . you get the idea. I've also taken herbal supplements, counted every ounce of water and timed feedings. No matter what I do, I just don't make enough milk, especially when my babies go through growth spurts. So as I just gnash my teeth here for a few minutes, I promise, I am NOT looking for advice. I've had it all.

My first two boys each looked at me like "where has THIS been all my life?" the first time they had mush on a spoon. I am sure that boy #3 will be no exception. He is three months this week and I am counting the hours until he is four months and we can do mush. Yes, I know, the latest research is SIX months. But I am not willing to turn my sweet little baby into a monster because he is hungry all the time.

If it didn't feel like the biggest rip off ever, I would just quit and formula feed. It wouldn't be hard. If I went to formula today, my milk would be dried up by Thursday with little discomfort on my part. As it is, the baby's hunger has caused me to supplement several times over the past week. I know, I know, this is supposed to be bad for nursing. But nursing every 90 minutes because of hunger never causes me to make more milk, it only causes me increasing pain.

Oh, and I'm on an antibiotic for mastitis.

I can't complain entirely, my baby started sleeping through the night all on his own a few weeks ago, but he has hardly napped at all in the afternoon for three days. Even now, I'm letting him cry in the next bedroom and I just have to do it for a few minutes because I'm just not dealing. And there is no one to call and no one to take my big kids for an hour so I can nap . . . with circumstances what they are, this has been my most difficult post-partum of the three. I still feel like I'm not quite together. Not even close.

I'm a real piece of work, I tell you what. My house is filled with half-finished projects that I'm finding nearly impossible with three kids and I'm having a hard time feeling settled yet. There are so many things needed (and un-needed) when you move into a new house and the money is always stretched thin. But what do I want the most? Just somebody to talk about books with.

On the upside, kids are hilarious. Captain Scallywag's two little bottom teeth that he's had since he was just a wee four months old are loose. I nearly got the giggles in Sacrament Meeting when I suddenly had a vision of just ONE big tooth coming in behind both of these little guys. His mouth is so tiny and cute. Grown up teeth already? All I can think is BRACES. Yikes! He has been full of questions about the toothfairy. Wondering if there were lots of toothfairies and if boy toothfairies came for the boy teeth. He is very averse to anything girly these days. He also wanted to know if his tooth fairy would carry a magic wand.

Captain Scallywag gave his first talk on Sunday and I was a very good mommy. I wrote a sweet little talk about the Holy Ghost complete with a multitude of pictures so that he could remember many of the words on his own. There was a picture with a big yellow smiley face, corresponding words, "The Holy Ghost makes us feel happy." Simple, to the point. While practicing the talk Sunday, Captain Scallywag holds up the smiley picture and the Poopy Pirate pipes up and points, "Look Mommy, its the Holy Ghost!" So now, every time a see a smiley face, I'm sure I'll be thinking, "Hey, look, its the Holy Ghost!" I'm sure at some point I'll need to correct said false doctrine, but I'm hoping he'll outgrow this one naturally.

Oh, friends, far and wide! I wish you were all living down the street. I'd invite you over this afternoon and we'd sit on the patio in the lovely, cool weather. There would be chips and salsa for Forecastcallsforrain and homemade pesto or bruschetta on ciabatta bread for Karatemommy and brownies for everyone else. Have I ever told you forecast, how much you'd love Karatemommy if you met her? And Desmama, how I'd love to hear first hand about your moving. And Kimberly Bluestocking--I'm sure you'd be just as charming in person. How could you not be? We'd let the kids run wild and give them all a popsicle if they got sweaty enough. We would talk of "shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings, and why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings," or whatever random silliness came to mind. I would forget for a couple of delicious hours that life is really not like the story books, and that REAL happily ever after is a daily slog interspersed with moments of perfect.