Monthly Archives

September 2014

the husband

Happy birthday to my favourite guy

It was my favourite husband’s birthday last Friday, which gave me the perfect excuse to plan a day out for some grub. I was starting to get all cobwebby from being cooped up at home with the baby, so birthday lunch with the husband (and the baby!) was a welcome change.

I know, right? Almost like as if it was my birthday. But the best husbands are nice like that – they share their birthdays – and I’ve got me one of the very best ones.

I had planned for a nice, quiet lunch where we sat next to other adults and used shiny cutlery to eat food that came in various courses while the baby slept but what was I thinking? It was more of a let’s-do-this-without-choking lunch where we took turns to rock the baby while the other did some frenzied-food-shovelling.

That’s right folks, 7 years and 4 kids in, this is what a birthday looks like. We had lunch, squeezed in some conversation and then went home to hang out with the other 3 kids.

I felt bad that it wasn’t more fancy. No surprise getaway or romantic staycation or even a night out about town without the kids. I told him we’d do a proper celebration once things got a little easier and he was all “what I really wanted for my birthday was for you to have a break.”

How’s that for the Sweetest Birthday Wish Ever? I really like this guy.

That night, after all the kids had gone to bed, he said “Don’t worry babe, in a couple of years, the kids will be bigger and life’s going to be so much fun. We’ve got a whole lifetime of awesome birthdays ahead of us.”

Ditto.

Happy birthday, baby!

husband

breastfeeding

The universal truth about breastfeeding

Let me preface this post with some general thoughts on breastfeeding.

1. Breastmilk is wonderful. It’s got all the nutrients and antibodies that your baby could possibly need. It’s also great for bonding, super convenient and free. I was sold on that last part once I saw the prices of baby formula.

2. Breastmilk isn’t an elixir for immortality, no matter what some might say. It doesn’t give your baby magical powers nor does it make them super special. So if you can’t or won’t, it’s ok, your baby will be just fine. I know this because Truett wasn’t breastfed and he’s a perfect specimen of a 6-year-old.

3. I’ve gone the formula route (Truett), the expressing to bottle-feed route (Kirsten) and the straight from the boob-tap route (Finn) and my favourite is hands down the boob-tap. In terms of convenience, there’s nothing quite like being able to pop out your boob to feed the baby. But we made the other methods work so there’s that.

3(b). Closely related to the boob popping is the matter of breastfeeding in public. I’m not particularly fond of flashing my boobs in public and I’d take the privacy of a nursing room any day but I’ve fed my hungry baby in restaurants, malls and public benches on several occasions so make of that what you will.

Okay, now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s move on to the fun part, boobs!

//It’s going to be long so feel free to skip most of it and scroll right to the end where there’ll be photos of boobs the baby!

***

I often hear mothers talk about how beautiful and natural and easy breastfeeding is and every time I read one of those perfect breastfeeding stories, I start to hate them and their wonder boobs just a little because in my experience, breastfeeding is so very hard.

It’s really, really, really hard, especially in the first couple of weeks. It’s like I have broken boobs and my baby hates them.

I scoured the internet and nobody really talks about how difficult it is to stuff your boob into your newborn’s teensy tiny little mouth so I guess I will.

The first two weeks after Theo was born, trying to breastfeed him was an absolute nightmare. I googled “How to get a correct latch” and “Tips on successful breastfeeding” numerous times a day and probably read every website and forum on breastfeeding. One particular website even had this lovely gem: “All babies love breasts, it’s the most natural thing for them!” and I was all “Oh ho ho, you clearly haven’t met my baby!!” I was even googling “Why does my baby hate my boobs” but those weren’t very helpful either.

Soon, I started watching youtube videos on how to latch on your baby and FYI, I’ve seen more boobs than I ever want to see in my entire life. And they all made it look so easy – Step 1: pop out your boob, Step 2: bring baby’s head to exposed boob, Step 3: baby drinks with a contented smile.

When I tried the exact same thing, my baby was anything but contented and he certainly wasn’t drinking nor smiling. Instead, he was flailing his head and struggling and screaming till he was red in the face. Not pink. Bright lobster red. Like he had just burst an artery in his face. He would push out the boob with his tongue and try to gum them really hard with his piranha gums (OUCHIES!) and swipe them away vigorously with his hands like “WHAT IS THIS?? GET IT AWAY, GET IT OUT OF MY FACE URGHH!!”

It was truly distressing. It destroyed me to know that my boobs were causing him so much tears and I felt like I was failing horribly at providing him the one thing he needed to survive – basic nutrition. Couple that with the general postpartum anxiety and let’s just say that I was in tears a lot as well.

At one point, I was even afraid to offer him my boob anymore because it seemed just looking at them upset him. I’d pretty much given up hope of ever latching him on and I was pumping exclusively to bottle-feed him.

I don’t think I would have made it through those rough couple of days without the husband being so supportive and talking it out with me. He’d tell me not to worry about the feeding and that the baby would be fine either way. On better days, he’s encourage me to just try offering him the boob without stressing over it.

So I did. Instead of forcing it, I’d be all casual like “hey baby, there’s a nice boob right here if you want it but it’s cool if you don’t.” He’d scream and I’d fail over and over and over but then one day, it suddenly just worked. He went from “WHAT IS THIS ABOMINATION??!!!” to “hey, that’s a fine-looking boob, maybe I’ll have me some of that delicious milk…” So he took the boob and that was my first successful latch. The next feed, he’d go back to hating them again but several more failures later, he took the boob once more. And then again. And again. It was one successful latch at a time until we found our mojo.

It took us a long time to get here but today, he’s a boob kind of guy and I’m so glad we get to do this.

baby theo

Kidspeak

Meet the parents

Kirsten: Hey mom, I have an idea!

Me: Sure…what kind of idea?

Kirsten: I’ll be the mommy and kor kor will be the daddy and you can go take a break.

Me: Hahahhaha that sounds like a great idea!

Truett: Ok, we’ll carry the 2 babies and take care of them. You just put them right here.

meet the parents

//15 seconds later//

Kirsten: Um…how long do we have to do this?

Me: It’s just been 15 seconds.

Kirsten: My hands are getting tired and this baby is like going to cry.

Tru: Yeah, and this other baby is so squirmy.

Kirsten: Taking care of babies is such hard work, I think you can take them back already. I’ll just be the jie jie, it’s more fun.

Me: How about you guys try to last 5 minutes? I’m going to go lie down for a bit. Laters!

Both: MOMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!! HELPPPPP!!! COME BACK!!!!!!!!

here take them back

not feeling so supermom

The countdown to sundown

I used to have a life where I did productive things and went for nice lunches and had lovely pockets of me time. Those days were good but they’re gone now.

These days, I have just one goal in life – to survive from wake-time to bedtime. And by survive, I quite literally mean to exist without dying because multiple times a day, I feel like I might actually die from exhaustion. Also, as a bonus, if neither one of us spent the day in tears (that much), then it’s considered a huge, huge success.

My countdown starts at 7.30 in the morning when the baby wakes up and I watch the minutes tick by till it’s time for bed at 9.30 at night. It’s not like bedtime is some kind of welcome relief where he falls into a deep and restful slumber because oh no, it’s not. The nights are definitively worse because having to wake up to an angry baby at 90 minute intervals is a whole new level of wretched. But it just seems like bedtime is a reasonable milestone to break up my day into two slightly less overwhelming parts.

If the future me was looking at myself right now, I’d tell present me to suck it up and get it together because in 6 months, things will get better and I’m going to wax lyrical about how I should have embraced the moment.

And present me would then proceed to punch future me in the face.

Not because it’s terrible advice but because it’s exactly what I need right now. Urgh, I hate it when my smug future self is right in giving me sagely but difficult advice.

Especially since this is going to be my last baby and I’m never going to be able to breathe in that newborn baby scent once this baby stops being a baby. But then my exhausted brain tells me that I ACTUALLY DON’T CARE ABOUT USELESS THINGS LIKE SMELLS BECAUSE ALL I WANT TO DO NOW IS LIE DOWN FOR 30 MINUTES IN SWEET SILENCE. And then I feel like a terrible mother who’s not seizing the moment with my precious little snowflake.

I guess the only good thing about being in survival mode is that I also have very little bandwidth left to feel that choking mommy guilt. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Besides, I just embraced that one moment last Wednesday when Theo gurgled at me for the first time so that should last me for another week or so.

Today, I just have 9 more hours to go. And this baby face that’s so deceptively demanding.

THEO

Finn

Two looks real fine on you

Our little man Finn had a birthday last week but with baby Theo in the hospital, it kind of flew by under the radar. I didn’t even get to see him once in the entire 24 hours, which I was really bummed about. But he was really sweet about it and he just made the most of his little birthday by having fun at home with Tru & Kirsten.

We made it up to him by declaring the next 3 days his follow-up birthdays and he was absolutely delighted with himself; the kind of unbridled delight that kids get on super special days. 3 whole days of “Happy Birthday, Finn Finn!!” was a real treat.

finn

We had to reschedule his party but this awesome little boy didn’t even mind. I told him he’d have to wait 2 days to celebrate his birthday with his friends in school and he just smiled and said “Ok momma.”

“Finn Finn eat cake?” he asked.

“Yes! And not just any cake but daddy got you a special ice-cream cake with your favourite vanilla flavour. Who wants ice-cream cake?”

“Ice-cream cake? ME, ME, ME!!” he pointed at his chest enthusiastically. A mashup of his two favourite things? It was all he needed for a rad party.

photo

***

True to tradition, I’ve written him a letter that he’ll get to read once he nails those phonics lessons with momma. But first, photos of this little heartthrob!

finn in a box

finn 4

aquaman

finn 2

finn 5

***

Hey Finn,

It’s birthday time!! I’m so excited. Not nearly as excited as you are, but pretty close. Know why? It marks two whole years that I got to spend with you and those have been a pretty amazing two years.

You are my pocketful of sunshine, my little shooting star. Seriously, WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE? I could munch on those delicious cheeks all day while snuggling and reading stories and fixing a thousand puzzles. Or mostly the same puzzle a thousand times. So it’s kind of my job description to hang out with you but here’s a secret: getting to spend my day with you is like the best gig in the world. Being with you is so naturally easy and always, always fun. Just a little Finn-time makes me smile on the gloomiest days.

You’re like lightning in a bottle. All that awesome packed into one tiny little body, it’s electrifying. And also ridiculously exhausting. You’re constantly doing stuff – climbing, running, galloping, somersaulting, climbing some more. Being your mom is strenuous business but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

You love so freely and you’re so extravagant with your affection that sometimes, I’m afraid you might get hurt by people who might not love you back the same way. But you’ve taught me that there’s only one way to love and it’s with everything you’ve got.

Here are some of your two-year-old milestones that are so irresistibly cute:

You’ve grown into a fine little gentleman. You know that any question ending with “please” is so much more likely to result in a “yes“, and “thank you” goes a long way in keeping those “yeses” coming.

You love blueberries and you’ll use them to make elaborate smiley faces before eating them. As with all food fads, you might wake up and decide to hate them tomorrow but for now, I’m loving that goofy blueberry smile.

You’re obsessed with the finger family song. Last weekend, you sang “brother finger” while waving your third finger everywhere around town. You just wouldn’t stop. It’s considered rude, you know. I tried distracting you with other songs or even other fingers but it was brother finger all day. Thankfully, that’s over. I get very nervous when you do that song in public.

Playing hide and seek with you is a riot. You’ll hide somewhere obvious and I’ll call “Finnnnn…” and you’ll yell “Cominggg…” before running right out. That’s not how hide and seek works, it’s adorable.

You’ll come to me at various points of the day to peer at me and say “Love you, momma. Up top!” before giving me a hi-5. It’s one of the things I look forward to every single day.

I love you, kid. Always and always. And Happy Birthday!

Mom.