Tuesday, August 31, 2010


Go milk yourself! Possibly an insult to anyone other than a lactating female—there is a great relief associated with emptying an engorged breast. Baby E has finally gotten a handle on the firehose-like nature of my let-down reflex. Though, rather than bigger gulps as her sister did, she pops off my breast to take a break which has led to many a milk shower for her and anyone nearby.

I feel more secure with a freezer full of breastmilk, and I tend toward a compulsion of replacing bags thawed for bottle feeding. There's a certain udder pride with production of a full bottle (or more) of milk. It pains me to waste my milk. I winced when I had to pour "expired" breastmilk down the drain t'other day. Once, when F was ~10 months, I almost started sobbing in the airport as a gentleman told me I couldn't take the milk I'd pumped all weekend onto the plane. I was saved the tearful scene, as a Papa himself he understood and found a way to make it work, I reached home with milk in hand. Making milk is hard work! It is indeed a superpower of sorts. All the energy into making milk that sustains and nourishes a new person, it's amazing. Magically the babyweight disappears and I begin to feel more and more like myself.

This baby girl burps herself. The First Born took some effort to burp, but this new one—if I let her rest a bit before sitting her upright—she'll burp upon reaching a vertical position. She's really more of a belcher, I could hardly call these gaseous pops the typical baby burps. On one occasion she was beside herself with discomfort, I took initiative to frustrate her more with a burping mid-nursing session, she cried-urped-cried-urped until all the gas was gone, then finished her meal with much more comfort. There have been multiple incidents of blubbery flutter-blasts of the breast (a.k.a. rasberries or zerburts) as she has burped while nursing. Both girls have been noisey nursers, imagine the gobbling panting gulping eating noises interspersed with "BLAUT-TWAUT-twuttwuttytwut"—but not the other end as a mama might expect! To which I giggle and she re-latches and keeps right on going.

The Epic of Gilgamilk seems a bit obscure, maybe Mantra of Milk Monster, or "Here's milk in yer eye!" Just call me Wonder Wo-Mom.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Moving is completed after many many trips to ARC Thrift for donations, the the storage room, and to Miss M's who generously opened her home to us for this month.

The second to last trip from the rental house, sweaty, tired, crying baby behind me, rush hour traffic, and a toy in a bag next to me singing a random "camptown races sing this song, do-dah, do-dah---DING DONG!---BEEP-BEEP!...camptown race is---HONK-HONK!....do-dah, do-daaah---DING-DONG!"

It's more warbled and mistuned because the batteries are dying.

I just laughed and laughed. The ridiculousness of the enormity of what I'd just completed in the past few days culminating in hilarity. Insanity made sane by grace and ease, knowing this too shall pass and it does not have to be done all at once.

Thank the goodness it's over for the time being. May a house to own soon be ours!