Monday, March 28, 2011

With apologies to Cee Lo Green

In honor of today's momentous occasion, I've written a little song. It's sung to the tune of Cee Lo's "FU."

I've had to haul you 'round town for the past 12 months
Now I say, "eff yooooooooo" (ooo ooo ooo!)
My boobs have been suctioned for the final time
Stupid pump, eff you and-a eff your tubes

Uh...that's all I've got...I never claimed to be a lyrical genius.

For those who are thoroughly confused, I'll clear things up for you: I quit pumping!

All last week, I felt like I was getting another case of thrush, and rather than fighting it with incessant cleaning and sterilizing for the next month, I just decided to quit. (I'm not quitting nursing cold turkey; I've found that thrushiness clears up better when I'm not pumping, though. Maybe because it's freaking impossible to clean and sterilize the stupid pump parts the way they need to be).

My first work day without pumping was lovely. I didn't have to deal with taking an extra bag to work, didn't have to store the milk, didn't have to worry about cleaning everything between pumping sessions, didn't have to remember to take everything home, didn't have to desperately find a few minutes between hearings to relieve my poor, engorged boobies. Oh! And I wore a real bra. One without plastic hooks and drop cups. It was great.

The only real down side was my barely-Bs swelling to (incredibly sore and painful) almost-Ds by the end of the day. Fortunately, I know that will clear up in a few days.

I'm still planning to nurse R when I'm home with him, but he can have formula at daycare for the next month. I picked up his last can of formula ever yesterday. When it's gone, we're switching him to cow's milk. My bay-bee's growing up! *tear* I'm hoping he'll decide he's completely done nursing soon, but I'm not holding my breath on that one. R likes his bedtime boob too much.

I just wanted to share today's happy thing with all of you. The only way it could have been any better was if I had taken the pump out back and beaten the crap out of it a la Office Space. Unfortunately, I borrowed it from a friend, and I'm not sure she would appreciate me destroying it. Getting it out of my life non-violently will have to be enough.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

My latest blog crush

I have a thing for bloggers who write about the things in my head in a much more eloquent way than I can. First there was Blair. She has very clearly and beautifully written about the daily struggle that is PPD in a way I'm never able to. Plus, she seems like such a sweetie and I feel like we would be friends if we knew each other in real life. (That's creepy, isn't it? I probably shouldn't put such things out on the internets, huh?)

I've added another woman to my blog-crush list. Swistle (whom I also enjoy thoroughly) linked up to JJust Kidding yesterday, and I headed over because I was bored and avoiding cleaning the bathroom. I was smitten within three paragraphs. I feel like JJ is me, just cuter and far more articulate (and likely without the whole severe depression thing). Her two-year-old even sounds a lot like W. I don't really need more stuff in my reader, but I'm glad I found this one to add.

Aaaaaaaaand, I'm done being creepy for the night.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Ballin'

I do not like basketball. At all. Haven't since about sixth grade when I had an awful experience on my school's basketball team (yeah, I'm fully aware that I sucked, but IT WAS SIXTH GRADE! We were supposed to be learning how to play the game! How the hell was I supposed to learn when I played maybe two minutes the whole season and was always, ALWAYS the girl who had to sit out during practice drills? *Ahem* I digress...)

So anyway, I don't like basketball. Don't play it, don't watch it, don't follow it.

But.

B talked me into filling out an NCAA bracket for the pool at work. I've never done one before. I spent approximately 10 minutes making my picks and made more of them based on gut feelings than on any knowledge of the teams. I turned in mine and B's, paid my buy-in, and forgot about it for a couple of days.

Then Thursday afternoon I got curious. I used my handy dandy smartphone to look up the results thus far and it happened: I got sucked in.

I enjoy checking the standings far more than I should. I updated our brackets six times during the first round. I've book marked ESPN.com so I can quickly find out scores. I get irritated when the teams I picked lose. B spent all evening with basketball games on and it didn't even bother me. IIm antsy for second round scores to start rolling in. I'm getting far more joy out of being one point ahead of B than I should be (hey, I figure we're probably both out of the running for any money, so we might as well play for spousal bragging rights).

None of this means that I like basketball now. It simply means that I have a sickness. A sickness I won't get over it until April 4.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Whole lot of random

I've found a fun new phase of depression: lack of emotion! I literally feel nothing, ever. I'm assuming this constant, flat, blah feeling is partially related to my medicine change, but it's been going on longer than I had hoped. I have to stick this med and dosage out until the end of the month...maybe things will change before then.

I also think my medicine change has been the driving force behind me consuming Girl Scout cookies at an alarming rate. Of the *ahem* six boxes we bought this year, I have eaten three and a half of them (minus about three cookies W got his grubby paws on) by myself (in, uh, less than two weeks), and that second sleeve of Thin Mints is calling to me. The only reason that number isn't five and half is the two remaining boxes are Tagalongs, which make me want to hurl.

R popped a couple more teeth on Friday night. He's getting his fangs in, just like his brother did. I think we're in for a few hellish weeks of teething...there are a bunch of buds in there right now.

The boys and I have all been sick lately. Last week, both boys had fevers all weekend. On Tuesday, I woke up with sinus yuck and a cough, which has steadily worked its way up to a sinus infection (I'm going to the doctor tomorrow for sweet, sweet antibiotics, and I'm looking forward to breathing through my nose and lowering my head without it wanting to explode). R had a fever and ear infection and teething this past weekend. He was miserable, which made my life pretty miserable, too. Luckily, he's feeling better. Except for the teething.

My counselor has ordered me to be in bed by 10:00 every night. I'm not doing very well with that little homework assignment.

R's birthday is coming up. I feel like I need to have a fun party for him with a theme and decorations and favors and such because I did that for W's first birthday. I do not, however, feel like putting any effort into making such a thing happen. I've already decided it's going to be family only, which lowers the pressure, but I don't feel like performing or entertaining right now, and I don't think that's probably going to change in the next six weeks. I also need to plan R's baptism (which has to happen Mother's Day weekend). Ugh.

B and I went to our first couple's counseling session last week. I wasn't super impressed with the guy we went to, but B seems to like him (as well as he'll like any counselor, I suppose). I ended up being slightly annoyed that B listened to the counselor and took his advice to heart when most of it was stuff I have been TELLING HIM FOR YEARS that he's systematically ignored. I guess I don't really care, though, as long as it leads to some changes.

B is finally, finally almost done with school for the year. This means my months of mostly-single-parenting are almost done. That makes me happier than you could know.

I think I'll take my throbbing head to bed now. I could promise to try to blog more than I have been, but I think we all know I would be lying to you. Until next time...

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

The final countdown

As of today, there are 53 days until R's first birthday. And there are 45 days until what I have affectionately dubbed "drunk off my ass weekend."

DOMAW (not to be confused with DOMA) will begin with a lot of drinking at the end of what is shaping up to be a mind-blowingly painful trial. The prosecutor on the case has invited everyone involved except the lead defense attorney (who is the cause of the majority of the pain) to go out drinking after the jury comes back that Friday. We all assume we're going to need it. Badly.

The other drinking event on the agenda that weekend is a friend's friend's bachelorette party. My BBF's college roommate is getting married to a massive d-bag and is having her bachelorette party in our college town. BFF is driving up from North Carolina to attend the party. College town is far closer to me than NC. BFF wants to see me. Thus, BFF talked her roommate into inviting me to (or at least not caring if I show up at) her bachelorette party. I'm super excited about this arrangement because 1). I want to see my BFF, 2). I love bachelorette parties, and 3). I can visit my college roommate who lives in college town and I haven't seen in over a year.

Once the plans for DOMAW were semi-solidified, I made up my mind: I'm done pumping as of April 15.

Done. D-O-N-E.

The timing of my crazy weekend out of town is perfect. I figure R will be turning one and starting on cow's milk just over a week after that date, so I don't have to worry about keeping my supply up any more. I won't have to worry about trying to pump multiple times a day and storing any non-alcoholic milk I pump while out of town. And with me being gone for most of three days, if I get lucky, R will decide to wean himself. Which means I will be done with breastfeeding. Yay! Even if that doesn't happen, I won't be tied to that effing machine any more. I can live with nursing past the one-year mark so long as I don't have to pump.

It feels good to have an end date. Let the countdown begin.