Archive for December, 2009

Okay, seriously…  The post I thought was gone, isn’t gone.  It’s there, right before the Introduction post about Super Tucker.  What the hell?  I know it disappeared, but now it’s back.  Which is a good thing, but really makes me think I’m crazy… 

Fruit Juice is NOT GOOD, check it out.  You might be a bit grossed out, though.  Just sayin’.

P.S.  Lulu, I don’t even know what to say about the puppies…  Seriously.


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What the????

I had a whole new post ready to go…  Some of you already read it, because I accidentally published it day before yesterday.  (Lack of sleep…)  So, a few of you can vouch for me.  I swear I had another post ready to go.  Two in the same week.  WOW.  I know.  You may need to sit down. 

Anyway…  I’m very angry.  It’s gone.  I opened up WordPress, saw it, hit publish, and it disappeared.  *Poof*  Gone.  I’m pissed.  I can’t recreate it.  I’m too tired. 

It was a good one, too.  Dammit.   Oh well.  Maybe I’ll give it a shot later…  Or maybe not.

There’s really no point in this post, I guess…  Other than to bitch about the disappearance and to tell you, “SEE!  I really have been working on the blog!”

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Our cutest, newest family member…  Yep, you guessed it…

Super Tucker is here!


He arrived Tuesday the 24th, as planned, at 7:58 a.m.  He was not as big as a Thanksgiving turkey, but he’s no scrawny chicken either, weighing in at 8 pounds, 2 ounces and measuring 20 inches long.  We are taking him to his first pediatrician’s appointment today.  The thought of germs is already making my eye twitch.  At least he’s a newborn and we can keep him in his carrier.  But, then again…  He’s a newborn…  With very little immune system.  Ahhhh…..  Okay…  Breathe…

Anyway, we came home Friday with him and the kids went berserk.  Seriously.  Saying they merely like him would be an understatement.  They LOVE this kid.  Although, I think the novelty has worn off a little bit with Henry.  He seems to forget there’s a baby in the house for hours at a time.  When he is reminded, he runs over and points and says, “Awwwww!  Coooooooooooot!”  Awwww!  Cute!  My sweet little man.  Or my sweet little men, rather.  They are plural now.  Avery and I are seriously outnumbered.

And speaking of Avery, she is in love.  She is so good with him, too.  She’s just the super, duper big sister to a baby that we knew she would be.  The first two days he was home, she was so excited you would have thought the grandmas fed her nothing but sugar (which is probably exactly the case, now that I think about it…)  But, even in her hyperactive, never.stopping.talking.or.jumping state, seriously the kid was vibrating she was so excited, she was still very gentle with her new baby brother. 

Of course, she wants in on all the action…  But, she just sits by me and gently strokes his leg or arm while we’re feeding him or whatnot.  Let’s hope that’s not just a front to gain our trust and when we’re not looking she’s going to be dragging him around by his neck…  Anyway, she’s been most excellent.

We’re thoroughly enjoying him.  All of us.  He’s super adorable, super sweet and super cuddly (he is Super Tucker, afterall.)  I could just eat him up.  And that sweet little newborn smell…  Oh my!  (Am I the only weirdo that likes the smell of newborn baby’s breath????  Is that weird?)

The c-section went well, our hospital stay was great…  (Okay, all together now:  Drugs are good…  Drugs are very good…)  We came home Friday, though, and were bombarded.  Yesterday was finally the first quiet day we’ve had.  And man could I tell that I had been overdoing it since we got home.  I am sooooo damn sore right now.  Yesterday I was like, Holy shit, I hurt worse than I did yesterday!  I’m supposed to be getting better, not worse...  And the Mister, being his sweet Mister self, made me stay off my feet all day long.  Of course, he’s pampering me and taking over every detail of the kids, house, food, etc…  Just like he always does.  I’m so blessed to have such an amazing husband.  And to have three amazing, healthy, beautiful kids.  I love them so much.

Okay, must be the hormones… 

Moving on….

I thought maybe this will kick me into blogging regularly again.  (I’m not making any promises, though.  I’ve said it before.  I know.)  Maybe life with a newborn will get me going.  I’m sure we’ll have plenty of interesting stories.  (Let’s hope none of which are about Avery dragging the baby by his neck or Henry hitting the baby in the head with a dump truck…)  I’m sure I’ll also have some not so funny at the time, but funny as hell after the fact stories for you guys about projectile shit and exploding diapers and whatnot…  (Like this one…)

And last, but not least, for your viewing pleasure…  Awwwwww….


P.S.  This post was supposed to go up yesterday.  At least now I have a really good excuse for being a slack ass. 

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Sorry!  If you read my “Fruit Juice is NOT GOOD” entry, it’s not gone for good…  It will be back tomorrow…  It got published out of order…  Sleep deprivation.  That’s all I’m sayin’.

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Fruit Juice is NOT GOOD…

Not this kind anyway.

I know I’ve talked here at some point about my breastfeeding woes.  I’ve not really ever been able to make it work, thanks to my damned “flat nipples.”  (Sorry Mr. G…  Or any dude, for that matter…  If you’re reading, you may seriously want to stop here.) 

As you can probably guess, “flat nipples” are not a good thing when trying to breastfeed.  They are too “short” and can actually retract…  It makes latching super hard…  And if the baby does happen to latch, they can’t stay latched.  And if they do happen to stay latched (which Tucker has somehow managed to do like a champ,) it is an improper latch.  Having a mini-Hoover attached to your nipple with an improper latch can majorly destroy a nipple (which Tucker has managed to do like a champ…) 

When I say “destroy” your nipple, I mean cause major issues like cracking, bleeding, sores, and actual destruction of the surface of the nipple.  Which can all lead to excruciating pain, infections, permanent damage and the inability to continue breastfeeding.  Not your average cracking and bleeding, so don’t start thinking, with a giant know-it-all, La Leche Leauge lovin’ grin, “Hang in there! I know it hurts in the beginning and everyone has problems at first, but it does get better!  So stick it out…”  Blah, blah, fucking blah…  Because, let me assure you, it doesn’t get better.  Not with flat nipples.  It gets worse.  It’s not the same as your average breastfeeding woes that you can work through with time.  It just doesn’t get better. 

So, as of right now, Tucker is off the boob and I am pumping. I eventually loathe that dmaned pump.  (But it is a cool ass pump, it’s the new Medela Symphony, highly recommend it if you’re in the market for a milking machine.) 

Night before last, Tucker (who has reflux…  I was hoping we would have a non-refluxy baby this go ’round, but no such luck, poor guy…) spit up blood.  Like a lot of blood.  Bright red blood.  Of course, we freaked out.  We called my friend, Dr. C, who deals with OB and new infants and we called the on-call dr. at the pediatrician’s office.  They both gave us a few possible reasons, and in those reasons, one was blood from me.  From my damned cracked, bleeding nipples.  They told us to watch him and if he did it again and it was the same or worse, to take him to the hospital E.R. 

We didn’t really think my bleeding boobies would be the cause.  Afterall, I’ve had two other refluxy babies and two other babies who played the “let’s destroy mommy’s nipples” game…  And neither of them ever spit up blood like this.  Mostly when I bleed, it gets mixed in with the milk and diluted, turning the milk pink.  Think strawberry Quick.  And Henry was quite the little vampire baby a few times, pulling away from my damaged breasts with blood dripping out of the corner of his little mouth.  Think Volturi.  But, never have I had one throw up blood like this.  So, we were thinking it had to be something else.  It was just blood.  Bright red blood, no pinky milk spit up.  Blood with a few “chunks” in it… 

We worried and watched him all night that night, and more spit up, but no more bloody spit up.  The pediatrician yesterday said he thought it was most likely blood from me, afterall.  So, we took him home and we watched for more.  He’s been fine, and after seeing what happened yesterday afternoon, we’re pretty sure it was from me afterall…  I pumped a bottle of Hawaiian Punch.  Seriously.  It was that red…  Avery seriously said it was a bottle of fruit juice.  Niiiiiiiiiiiiice.

So…..  I am off the breastfeeding for a while, and on to pumping.  Fun, fun.  I think when my nips heal, since I seem to be a glutton for punishment, I’ll let him nurse a little while longer.  Until he tears up my newly healed nipples and he starts vomitting blood or I start pumping Fruit Juicy Red…  Then I’ll probably be ready to move on to some formula.  So, see people, breastfeeding is not always best.  So suck it.  Or maybe not…

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