I had other things to write about today

But then I woke up and noticed that it was snowing.  Again.

We have officially reached the point in winter when I start wanting to slam my head in the car door.  (Yes, I know the calendar says that it is spring, but the calendar is a dirty, filthy liar.)  I’m dying for sun.  I’m dying to spend some time outside.  With exposed skin.  I’m dying to go for a nice long walk without worrying about falling on the ice and/or getting hypothermia.

March is the worst because I know that it is spring in other places.  Somewhere, there are little girls running around in pretty dresses while their parents have picnics on the lawn in shirtsleeves.

But not here.

Think kind thoughts.  This is the time of year when depression runs rampant, when people get edgy and fight a lot, when eating a dinner of mashed potatoes followed by a carton of ice cream seems like a good idea (I haven’t done that.)(Yet).

Now that I think about it, this time of year reminds me of those overdue weeks of my pregnancy when I felt that I couldn’t be pregnant for another second, but I also knew that I would just have to keep on being pregnant as I had no control over the matter.

I am so over winter, but I’ve got no choice but to wait until winter is so over me.

The Murphy’s Law of Breastfeeding

I just spent a full week combatting a low supply with careful monitoring of diet and water intake, massive quantities of “Nursing Mother” tea, and a full Saturday spent on the couch on a nursing vacation.

My milk finally came back in force.  Just in time for me to go on my overnight trip and all-day conference with limited pumping opportunities.  Guess who got engorged and promptly dropped her supply again?

Once again: I am so sick of thinking about my boobs.

This seals my nomination for “Bad Mother of the Year”

I’m about to leave for my first overnight business trip since the Buddha Baby’s birth.  I know I should be worried about whether her ear infection is going to get worse, or about whether I left enough milk for her for two days, or about whether she’s going to be inconsolable at bedtime when her nightcap comes from a bottle.

But you know what?

I’m just really excited to have a night alone in a nice hotel where NO ONE NEEDS ANYTHING FROM ME.

(Ten bucks says I wake up at 2 AM in a tearful panic, convinced that she is dying without me.)

(Twenty bucks says she doesn’t even notice I’m gone.)

Haven’t I paid enough?

Hey!  Universe!  Yeah, you!

I already admitted I was wrong.  I apologized.  Did you really need to follow-up on the whole “flying with a baby with a head cold” punishment by giving the baby an ear infection?  Was that really necessary, universe?  Because, frankly, I think it’s just bad sportsmanship.

Bite me,

Alias Mother

Vacate! Vacate! Vacate!

We returned from vacation three days ago and I have been trying to write a coherant entry about it since.  But you know what?  There was no coherancy to this vacation.  It was a bullet-point kind of experience.

Here are some things I learned:

• Your baby’s airplane behavior may range from angelic (slept the whole flight when she wasn’t flirting shamelessly with the flight attendants) to horribly embarrassing (screamed for about 45 minutes straight on a 2 hour flight), but as long as the baby doesn’t approach “completely psychotic,” call it a success.
• If your child is going to be fussy on a flight, try to arrange to sit in front of the two-year-old who is having a face-melting tantrum.  That toddler will make your child look fantastic.
• You can bring your breastfeeding cover-up, but don’t be surprised if the effort to use it in those teeny airplane seats results in one or more of your party being nearly strangled.  Just whip the boob out and use your evil eye on anyone who gives you crap.  You can practice on the flight attendant who says, “Is your seatbelt fastened?  Oh, you’re doing THAT.“
• People will be extremely critical of you if your baby’s skin sees sun for even two seconds, even if you explain that you live in a place that hasn’t seen sun in several months and you think the baby might need some Vitamin D.  Apparently, babies are the new vampires and they will burst into flame at the slightest touch of sunlight.
• Keeping your baby out of the sun means that you will be kept out of the sun and when you return home everyone will say, “Are you sure you went on vacation?”
• When you are in the warm place, you will learn that your daughter looks amazingly sweet and pretty in sundresses.  Then you will be sad when you need to dress her in head-to-toe fleece and wool again.
• You will realize how pathetic your winter baby is when it occurs to you that your child’s arms have never felt outside air, her hands have never touched grass, and she has never seen her toes.
• A winter baby with newly revealed toes will spend four days staring at them in amazement.
• Vacationing to visit your in-laws is not really vacation, but nice try.
• You may have spent the last month trying to make your baby laugh, but she will not laugh for you.  She will laugh for your mother-in-law within five minutes, however.
• Yes, you will be bitter about that even though you’ll try not to be.
• You will take advantage of your child’s fascination with her grandmother (and vice versa) to go out to dinner with your husband and your husband only for the first time in four months.
• It will be fantastic and will make the entire “vacation”–and its attendant mid-air meltdowns, in-law craziness, and lack of sun–completely worthwhile.

One of those times when I hope the journey isn’t the best part

Tomorrow we take off for vacation.  Just snotty, coughing me, congested, phlegm-hacking Alias Father, and our oozing-from-every-orifice spawn, the Buddha Baby.  Don’t you wish you could sit next to us on the plane?

But I don’t mind so much.  Because on the other end of that plane ride is…well, another plane ride.  But on the other end of that plane ride is…um, yeah…another plane ride.  But on the other end of that plane ride is a beach.

And oh lordy lordy, does snotty, coughing me need that beach bad.

When I go on vacation, I go on Vacation.  That means no internet.  See you next week.

You know you’ve adapted to motherhood when…

…you pick up a used tissue covered in another human being’s snot and use it to blow your own nose, without even thinking about it.

An open letter to the universe

Dear Universe,

I understand that this is primarily my fault. When I mentioned to my mother on Saturday that the Alias Father had been sick but that neither I nor the baby had caught it, I was bragging just a bit. I did knock on wood, but I can see how that swift little knuckle rap on the table wasn’t enough. I’m not even sure all four knuckles touched the wood, so by your standards, that may not even count. What I should have done was step outside, wind my legs up like Wile E. Coyote, and launch myself full speed into the big oak tree while wearing that thingy the Egyptian man gave me to ward off the evil eye around my neck. That might have been enough to counteract the jinx. No?

You have to admit that you’ve been a little unfair. By the time I made that statement, he’d had that cold for two straight weeks. I mean, if we were going to catch it, we should have caught it days ago, right? Of course I thought we were in the clear. How was I supposed to know that it wasn’t one single cold that he had, but rather a cold that mutated into some kind of infection that then suppressed his immune system enough that he caught a second cold? Which we were not able to fight off because we’d just resisted the first cold? That was sneaky, universe! Downright sneaky!

I have to admit, though, that, sneaky or not, your timing is absolutely perfect. Yes, *clapclap* to the timing. Why would you want us to catch the first cold two weeks ago, which we would be over by now? Why indeed? If we were over the cold already, I’d be much more relaxed about the nine hour airplane trip (with two layovers!) that we are going to undertake on Thursday. I might even be saying things like, “Thank goodness we had that cold last week when we didn’t have to fly anywhere!” But you are clearly smarter than me. Everyone knows how much fun it is to travel with a baby and to fly with a head cold, so why not combine the two into one delightful nine hour (with two layovers!) trip by giving the baby a head cold. Fan-tas-tic, universe! What an awesome way to teach a lesson. You truly are the champion teacher.

So don’t worry. I have taken your warning under advisement and will never taunt you again. Finding myself sucking snot out of a screaming baby’s nose in between bouts of coughing up a lung at 3 AM ensured that.

Talk to you on Thursday, when I get what’s coming to me for all those times I muttered, “Is that baby coming on our plane? God, I hope he doesn’t cry the whole time.”

Sincerely,

Alias Mother

Seriously, I’m so torn

It’s Alias Father’s day home with the Buddha, and he just called requesting that I come home as early as I can.  Apparently she is rejecting the bottle, won’t nap, and is screaming her head off and generally being Contrary.

On one hand I’m all, “Ohmigod I need to get home to my baaaayyybbbbeeee.”

On the other I’m thinking, “Would it really hurt him to sweat this out a little longer? Say, for three months?”

My weekend as a Clint Eastwood movie

The Good: I fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans!  And I wore them all day long in relative comfort! And the muffin-top, it was minimal!  The days of the Mom Jeans are almost over.

The Bad: Cleaning out the fridge and discovering exactly what was causing our stinky fridge problem.  Um, ew.

The Ugly: Daylight savings time and its effect on the sleeping habits of my daughter.  Mutter, mutter, grump.