Back At It

I did it. I went back to work. And it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It was rough, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think my baby is going to be scarred for life.

But this baby is a picky one!! When Wyatt(4) was a baby my schedule was a lot more flexible, and he took whatever sort of nipple you stuck in his mouth. He wouldn’t sleep, but boy could that kid eat.

Audrey, on the other hand, is more, shall we say, delicate. The milk has to be fresh and at the perfect temperature, the bottle at just the right angle or girlfriend won’t even let that nipple get close. But put her in the proximity of a living breathing nipple and bar the barndoor Bessie! I can’t get my girls out fast enough.

So what’s the deal? Do I spend a small fortune on different types of bottles or just stick with one until she gets used it? Am I forever destined to have a prima donna on my hands? I love nursing her and am lucky to work at a wonderful place that supports breastfeeding mothers. I just seem to have a nipple snob on my hands…


If you shake me, I might just make butter

My baby Audrey is 6 weeks old. I have yet to spend even an hour away from her. We’re attached, you see – I am her personal dairy cow. And not just any old dairy cow – I’m a grade A prime milker, state fair quality. This baby grows a chin a day, I swear. My husband has referred to me numerous times as a good brood mare.

And no matter how well my baby is growing, and despite the fact that yes, I am a mammal, I still sometimes get odd looks when I say I’m nursing. I know there are countless blogs out there dedicated to the fight for nursing mothers. I myself have never been the activist type, but I could sure do without the sideways glances. You don’t even have to look at my bare breast – I’m completely covered. This is a natural thing I do – come on people, I can make milk! It’s amazing!

So the next time you see a new mother feeding her baby without a bottle, send a smile her way. I know I would appreciate it.

Should I be more of a “type A” mama?

A couple weeks ago, Dwight bought Wyatt (4) a mini four-wheeler. Mini in the sense of size, not horse power, because that thing can get up and go. I like to think that my child is intellectually and physically advanced – but really, you should see that kid handle a machine. It only took one good meeting with a tree (both child and tree emerged unscathed) to remind him to keep his eyes on the road ahead. And in less than two days, he was doing doughnuts with a certain flair that I rarely see in such a young kid. Bottom line, my boy is a natural born driver.

But should I be more vigilant about safety? He wears an approved helmet each and every time. There’s a kill switch on a wristband that he wears without fail. But the fact remains, he’s still a four year old on a motorized vehicle. He gets distracted, he likes to show off, but so far he’s been pretty good. Should I worry more? Or just enjoy the fact that I have a coordinated son who excels at something already?


Country boys – they sure aren’t like girls

I don’t know how many times I’ve asked myself – do girls do this?  My son has been potty trained for well over a year now.  But since the summer months have settled in for good, suddenly the potty in the house is not so cool anymore.  He prefers to drop his drawers so the sun can shine on his birthday suit and do his business wherever he happens to be.  Sometimes an unlucky tree gets an unexpected drink, sometimes it’s the sidewalk, but it’s always done with plenty of commentary.

“Mom – look how far!”

“Mom, it’s like I’m a fireman”

Oh, lord.  I don’t remember willingly dropping my drawers in the great outdoors until I was a teenager drinking on a backroad.  It’s not like you could just waltz in any old place while you were intoxicated, it being illegal and all.

I tell you, parenting a little country boy is a lesson in humility.  You never know when they’re gonna be naked next.