Mamma Bear

I had a triumphant morning! Today, I slew a stinging insect! A hornet, to be exact. Hooray!!!
This is a huge triumph for me, since in the past if a stinging insect invaded my home and was flying around angrily, I would just barricade myself in another room until my husband came home - yes, I would stay in that room all day. That is how fearful I am of stinging insects.

My first encounter was when I was about 5 (or 8, I can't remember.) Anyway, my family and I were walking through a new neighborhood that had been built near ours, admiring the new houses and checking out the sample homes. As we were leaving we walked through the same rot iron gate we had come in through. The gate had a hole for a handle, but no handle yet. So, we just put our hand through the hole to open it. This was not a problem going in as we all passed through the gate together and went on our way. However, on the way back I ran ahead so I could hold the door open for my family (trying to be sweet has a history of burning me - more stories later.) Lo and behold, within that hole resided a wasp and its nest. As my fingers were disturbing the nest, the wasp flew out to meet me. I screamed. What did my father tell me to do? "Stand still! It won't bother you." Well, that works unless you just stuck a finger directly into their nest. At that point the wasp is already mad and your fate is pretty much sealed. So, I did as my father instructed. I stood still and let that wasp take its time in getting its aim. It made 3 figure 8s in front of my face and then decided to plant its stinger right into the tip of my nose. Yes, the stupid wasp stung the tip of my nose. From that day on I stayed as far away as possible from stinging insects.

Until today. But let me first quickly tell you my second encounter.

I was 2 WEEKS over-due with my little baby. Yes, I was a big waddling ball of miserable. I was walking down a few stairs after a visit to Sub-Way. I was out in the middle of nothing, no walls, no railings. I wasn't holding on to anything so I have no idea how this happened. All I can think is that I swung my arm (and you better believe I was swinging my arms while I was walking. Moving something that big took momentum, man.) I guess I swung my arm in the path of a hornet's flight. Well, EXCUSE ME mister hornet. Heaven forbid that I am walking where you are flying. So, it decided to sting me on the arm. All I heard was a quick buzz and then felt a terrible sting in the crook of my arm.
I was a pitiful sight, let me tell you. Tears started streaming down my face. It wasn't that it really hurt too badly, but my feelings were hurt. I mean, didn't it see how miserable I was? And I didn't do anything to it! I was just walking, well, waddling back to my car after trying to treat my gloomy self to a scrumptious sandwich. I stood there and just said, "Why?"
Two ladies were walking by and, seeing a hugely pregnant lady standing there with a quivering bottom lip and talking to herself, they asked if I was alright. I began blubbering, "I was just walking and this hornet - I guess it was a hornet - came out of nowhere and stung my arm! Why would it do that?!"
They just stared at me bewildered. I realized they didn't have an answer for that, so I asked them, "What should I do? Do I need to go to the hospital? Is it going to hurt my baby?" (Yes, I was pretty hysterical.)
More bewildered stares and then one woman blinked and said, "I guess you should probably put some ice on it. Maybe use your drink. And then call your doctor."
Well, that sounded a lot more sensible to me. I got in my car and held my cold drink to the boo-boo until I got home. I called the doc and she said it was no big deal. Overreact much?

Which brings us to today.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

Cleaning Up

I have been trying to get my life in order. Read: less time on the computer and more time Doin' Stuff! Every time I think to sit down and blog, I realize there is a pile of junk that could be gone through or a dusty surface or 2 or 5. I realize there is a pile of laundry, a sink of dishes, a messy closet. I used to ignore these things and just sit at the computer bc dealing with these things did not make me happy and sitting at the computer did. However, the anxiety began to build. Life in clutter was stressing me out. So, I began cleaning. While the process made me miserable, the end result makes me a much happier and clear-minded person. *smile*

My bedroom was the biggest project. It had been neglected for, well, maybe for almost *shudder* a year! It is the room that is just so easy to close the door on whenever guests come buy. Every unsightly thing would be transferred there and the door shut. It was one of those projects that I had started several times, but would always be interrupted and the attempt would leave the room worse than it had previously been.

Finally, I got a day where my husband was not working and he took a day off of studying for his graduate classes and could watch our baby girl. I had almost ALL DAY uninterrupted to clean! And you know what? It didn't even take all day! It feels so good to have a clean, (somewhat) organized room! It still needs a little work, but it is in a very good place, now.

And, no, I am not posting before and after pictures. Are you kidding me? My mother reads this blog!

Oh, and may I just mention that I recently moved ALL of the furniture and rugs in my living room and did a seriously cleaning of the floors - all of this while trying to keep a crawling baby contented. This may be a regular activity for some people - but it isn't for me, and I think I deserve a "way to go!" Why, thank you!


I am supper excited to finally get my photo editing software up and running again. I have had several posts bouncing around in my head the last month, but have not wanted to post them without the accompanying pictures. Hopefully, I will get around to them, soon!

Human Again

It's the little things that make you feel human again.

• An uninterrupted shower
• An uninterrupted meal
• Cooking a meal . . . uninterrupted
• An uninterrupted night's sleep (I don't remember what that is like)
• Cleaning the house
• Doing your hair
• Applying make-up
• Brushed teeth
• Plucked eyebrows
• Wearing a real bra
• Shaved legs
• Reading a chapter in a book
• Driving in the car by yourself
• Watching a chick flick
• An uninterrupted blog entry (arg!)
• Vacuuming the floors
• Cleaning out that pile of junk you've been meaning to get to
• Hanging flowers on the back porch
• Filling bird feeders
• A trip to the grocery store/farmer's market by yourself

I feel myself relaxing just listing these things.

If I were to get any 5 of these things in one week I would think I was dreaming.
But I would know I was not dreaming, because that would require an uninterrupted night's sleep.

So, then I would come to the conclusion that I was dead and this is Heaven.
I would look around and think,

"Hmm. Not bad . . .

Ok, where's my new body?"



I have new pictures to post along with an entry I've been working on - but our desktop computer that I keep my pictures on has crashed.
You know when you try to do something on the computer and a little warning sign pops up and says that force-quitting that application could cause damage to your computer? Well, sometimes it actually does. Lesson learned.
Funny that it was actually my husband who did it this time. Ha!
Not funny that we are going to have to pay about $100 just to see if we can salvage any of the videos and pictures of our precious daughter. Also, my husband's grad work is on that computer and several of the projects are due next week. Eeek!
Please send happy thoughts and prayers into our Mac. Does "laying on hands" work on machines?

The Husband Stitch

T.M.I. ALERT!

This post discusses a topic that is not for the easily offended. In my opinion, I actually exercised a lot of restraint, but to some I may have still gone too far. Oh well. Don't read it. 

I debated about sharing this - but I just have to get it out there. Maybe I am hoping that others have a similar experience so I don't feel like such a weird-o?
Tally forth . . .

Dear "Husband Stitch",

You suck.

As the doctors went to work on my 3rd degree lacerations after the delivery of my 10lb 1oz baby girl, in my exhausted stupor I vaguely remember them saying, "Don't worry. We're going to make you BETTER than new."

BETTER THAN NEW?

What is wrong with just new?

What was wrong with me before?

Nothing. I was fine before.

Just make me like I was before, ok?

But I wasn't asked. I was just sewn. Practically shut. Not cool.

Almost 7 months later and I am still having to deal with this. Let me just say that my husband is not a big fan of this so-called "husband stitch". It's more like an ANTI-husband stitch.

Thank God for an awesome O.B. that has a bunch of little tricks up her sleeve.

Little Juniper - someday you will have a little brother or sister. Someday. Just not any time soon. Sorry.

And if you are wondering, yes, this has affected my self-confidence. Along with that, I have been more than discontented with my flabby, stretch-marked (or tiger striped!) body. But, just when I am about to have a major meltdown - I look at my little Juniper. I remember that this body made a baby. Heck, I should amazed by my body! I should give my body a little wink, wink nudge "good job!" I'd do it all over again for that precious little girl. And I just might have to if I want another one. *sigh*

Maybe I should just make a permanent TMI button. What do you think? lol

All Buttoned Up!

Today I spent a good chunk of time adding the buttons of several blogs that a frequently read.
Is your button there? (see bottom right-side column)
If it isn't then chances are I couldn't find it or it didn't work or *gasp* you don't have one!

If you don't yet have a button, then HERE is a great tutorial that helped me out. The first time it took me 2 hours. The second time it took me 1 hour and the 3rd took me 1/2hour. So, you see, I am improving. :)

Here's my button in case you'd like to re-button :)



<a href="http://lindsaysmommymusings.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i898.photobucket.com/albums/ac186/WhatUpSmelly/BlogButtonBird.jpg" border="0" alt="Mommy Musings"></a>


If you have a button I missed or if you create a new one - let me know! I'll darn your button to my blog :)

Are You Ready For This Cuteness?!

I don't think you are!

Juniper Grace

Easter Day, 6 months old

 Laughing at Daddy :)

I Promise This Is Not Becoming a Breast-Feeding Blog

In light of my last 2 posts, I thought I would re-visit a blog I did several months ago concerning my struggles with nursing my daughter. I hope you enjoy! or re-enjoy!


This Sucks Because She Won't!
Warning: This post discusses boobies. If that makes you uncomfortable, read no further.

I wish I had written this closer to when the events had occurred for a better account. It just took me so darn long to remember and recount the events of my delivery that everything else was put on hold.

Anyway, we finally get baby girl home. I went about trying to do about the only thing my beat-up body should be capable of doing: feeding the baby. I had gotten some pointers from the nurse at the hospital and had attended a breast feeding class during my 9th month. I figured I was pretty prepared. I cradled Juniper in a proper feeding position - supporting her head as I had seen. I supported my breast with the other hand, waited for her mouth to open and popped the thing right into it. I thought, "Now, suck." But she didn't suck. She screamed. So, we tried again. And again. Ok, lets try the other breast. Same thing. I couldn't understand it. For hours I tried to feed her while she screamed - so tired and so hungry. I would let her suck on my finger for a few minutes and then we would try again. Again she screamed. She screamed and cried with perfectly pitiful little "Wha"s until, exhausted, she would cry herself to sleep.

This continued for 2 days. I was exasperated, exhausted, desperate and pretty much mortified. Why wouldn't my baby eat. I kept saying, "It is right here, baby. Take it!" But she would not. I was beside myself. Here it was, my biggest job as a mother - to make sure my child was fed - and I couldn't do it. Everything I had read said to keep going - that eventually the baby would feed. They said not to use a bottle bc it would cause nipple confusion. However, I was watching my baby waste away before my eyes. This pudgy little baby I had brought home from the hospital had lost almost all of her baby fat. Her double chin was replaced with saggy skin and her neck began to look like that of an old woman. Her rosy glow had turned ashen. My every instinct as a mother said to do what I could to get something into that baby's stomach. So, fighting the guilt imposed by breast-feeding nazis I broke out the hand pump. I pumped about 3oz, poured it into a bottle and popped it into her mouth. She drank! She chugged that bottle down and when she was done - no screaming. I had a completely different baby. This baby was peaceful and contented. We all sighed and laughed with relief and then we slept.

The next day we went to a lactation consultant. Juniper had lost 2.5lbs from her birth weight! That is significant. They commended me, though, on doing what I could to get something into her stomach. She was responding well with good color in her skin and would not need to be admitted to the hospital.
It turns out that my breasts were becoming so engorged that my nipples were flattening out and giving her nothing to latch on to. They gave me plastic nipple shields and Juniper took to them right away. Another sigh of relief. Also, I had the letdown of a super soaker and I was drowning her, so they encouraged me to pump a little before nursing. They sent me home with the nipple shields, storage bottles and a rented electric pump to help lessen the engorgement. Happy baby, happy mommy.
Now that she was eating we had to work on improving her latch. "It is called breast feeding, not nipple feeding," they would tell me. Well, someone tell Juniper that! I would do everything they told me to do, angling myself right, widening her mouth and shoving as much of myself in there as I could - but she would inevitably slide down to where she was only sucking on my nipple. 3 months later this is still her preference, but my skin is a lot tougher now. Then, she was biting me raw and to the point of bleeding. The nipple shield would be filled with blood and I was afraid I was creating a little vampire of a baby. With creams and soothing pads they finally healed and toughened up.

I have resigned to the fact that, though we have both greatly improved at it, she is just a fussy eater. My mom says I was the same way and that I fought her the whole time I was nursing until I weened myself around 6 months. She is also a sloooooooooow eater. She likes to take breaks and look around. She will want to stop and play and then want to eat again 10-15 minutes later, causing her feeding time to last about an hour. This makes it very difficult when in social situations. It is frustrating to keep disappearing or to stay gone for hours at a time. With my anatomy and her fussiness it makes it difficult to breastfeed her discreetly in public. This is why I typically try to keep some pumped milk with me. I just fart in the general direction of all the breastfeeding brow-beaters giving me the stink-eye. It is breast milk - but what business is it of their's how I choose or need to feed my baby. How dare they make another woman feel inferior for doing what they can to feed their child. Occasionally, Juniper's hunger is too great for my supply and I have to supplement a little formula. The BFNs (Breastfeeding Nazis) would have me to simply let my baby do without, saying it won't hurt her. Seriously? Giving her formula would do her more harm than having her go hungry? Ridiculous. If my baby is hungry, I find a way to feed her - it is instinctual. Here is a confession for all you booby bullies - sometimes I give her formula simply out of convenience. I must be a terrible mom. My child is going to grow up stupid, right? You self-righteous shamers seriously need to put a cork in it. If we wanted your opinion, we would ask. You just tend to and raise your own little organic baby geniuses. I am going to laugh when my formula feeder gets better college scholarships.
Sorry, I got a little mean and angry their. I just think its horrible when women who have tried their best but are simply unable to breastfeed are judged as bad mothers. I will get off of my soap box. However, this is my blog so I guess I shouldn't have to apologize for expressing my thoughts.
I will probably go back later and edit all of this out - after I cool down.

*I didn't cool down about it. Therefore, I never edited it out :)