Happy 8th Month Petals!
- Last week, Petals began waving. It’s pretty hit or miss, and I’m not always sure what her waving means, but she’s doing it! It’s also hilarious because she waves with the palm of her hand facing her instead of facing outwards, and she kind of just shakes her arm around in the air instead of just moving her wrist.
- Petals spent the night with grandparents where she played with cats and tried juice for the first time. Apparently, she’s not a fan – of juice, anyway. She had a great time with her grandparents and aunt and uncles.
- Petals learned about the joys of string cheese.
- We’ve finally got a sleep routine that works! No more screaming nights…I hope!
- Just when I was ready to give in and buy some formula, Petals decided that she needed to nurse every two hours again. While I’m pleased that she’s back at the breast, I’m also a little peeved that my through-the-night sleeper is back to her newborn schedule.
- I have yet to make it through one week of “cooking” meals from home, though I am making progress. We only ate out two nights last week! On Sunday, I made brown rice to accompany delicious beef panang left over from date night. On Monday, I made pasta, sausages, and asparagus/mushroom/onion saute. On Tuesday, I had leftovers from Monday for lunch – which was awesome. Then I went to Zumba, which was also awesome, which means that I had nary the time nor inclination to cook when I got home. We ate hot dogs. Wednesday, I was back at it. I baked some chicken in cream of mushroom soup, made Brussels sprouts with pancetta and balsamic vinegar, and more of the brown rice. Thursday we had hibachi from Japan Express. Friday I made “Green Eggs and Ham” – translate: Spinach Eggs and Bacon.
- Speaking of food, at school one of the teachers has been keeping a Big Mac in her classroom since the beginning of last semester. As I’d seen before on numerous websites, it still looks the same, smells the same, and demonstrates the chemical nature of fast food treatment. It was disgusting. That said, I still want to eat a Big Mac. I know. I know. (Although, later I read that according to an experiment conducting over at Serious Eats, apparently this is not unique to McDonald’s burgers – that other burgers, even homemade ones, do not “rot” either. Thanks J. Kenji Lopez-Alt. That makes me feel better about some of the decisions I’ve made in my life.)
- It’s the end of the semester, and I’m getting those “beginning of the year” jitters again. Who will these kids be? How will this semester go?
- Speaking of school, I am very frustrated with new projects and undertakings. I realize that I need to calm down, go back, and rethink my strategy. But at the moment I’m too frustrated to do that. So I’m going to eat some ice cream instead.
And oh yeah, about the formula.
I still haven’t made a final decision about the formula. I recognize that she’s happy, healthy, and growing well. But I do worry that the nature of my work, which doesn’t allow me to go to the bathroom on a regular basis let alone take a sixty minutes a day to pump (three twenty-minute breaks ain’t happenin’ at when you’ve got classes of kids to teach), means that my dwindling milk supply won’t be enough to satisfy her at school. I don’t want the kid to go eight hours with only one measly bottle of milk. Yes, she’s eating other foods, but don’t babies need milk?
Sigh. I thought I had the kinks to this breastfeeding thing worked out months ago.
I might need to eat some ice cream now.
The Boy is ill.
He got a flu shot with the hopes of avoiding getting the flu. Seeing as how we have a lil’ baby, this was a responsible move. However, the flu shot gave him the flu. Well, at least, it gave him “flu-like symptoms”. Watery eyes, aching muscles, general sluggishness, lack of appetite.
He sounded so horrible when I called to check on him that I wasn’t sure I had the right number. He felt so gross that he left work early on Thursday, and, by the time I arrived, the house was still dark and he still abed. Not one sign of him working on the sly. (He is known to do this – work while he’s supposed to be resting.) So when he asked me to pick some food up for him, Thursday evening, I stopped by Wendy’s to grab a small chilli, a small fry, and a small frosty. Something warm, something cold, something bland – perfect sickie food.
Today, before picking up the baby, I stopped off by the grocery store to pick up some sick-person supplies. OTC meds, orange juice, canned soups (chicken noodle and tomato), and wine. The last one was for me. I also grabbed some bananas, an avocado, and salad greens. I came home, tied a baby to my hips, and set to work making grilled egg-in-the-hole sandwiches and tomato soup for dinner. The Boy informed me that he hadn’t been able to eat all day.
“I tried to get some food,” he rasped. “But I just couldn’t eat it.”
I looked in the fridge to find a disposable Taco Bell container staring me in the face. The Baja Blast Mountain Dew was sweating all over the coffee table in front of my sick husband.
“Note: when I go sick people shopping, I pick up Vitamin C and soup. When you go sick people shopping, you pick up an XXL Grilled Stuft – not “stuffed”, by the way, “stuft” – Burrito and a Mountain Dew. I pick up chilli, and you pick up…food not intended for sick people. See the difference?”
“It was a chalupa…” he said, indignantly. “Cha-lu-pa.”