The end of an era

Well, folks.  Here we are.  It is baby Hamburglar's birthday.  My baby is now a man.  I've decided the best way to celebrate is to send him out in the woods with the pocket knife I got him at the Bonneville Dam gift shop to kill his first bear.  And make his own diapers from a deer hide.  Or maybe beaver skin.  It's time he put all of the skills he's learned over the past year to use.

Or not.

But we are going to start potty training.  One of my coworkers gave me the potty chair she used for her oldest son.  Yeah, a used potty chair seems kind of gross, but this one sat in her attic for, like, 15 years.  I'm not sure exactly why, but that makes it seem better/less gross for some reason.  I figure that, since Hamburglar is walking now, he can start walking to the toilet.  Now we just need to figure out the best way to go about it.  I'm thinking about just putting him on the toilet every hour so he gets used to it?  I don't know.  more research is needed.

Also, it's the end of my 22 month run of no periods.  I started my period yesterday.  And, whereas it's nice to have a physical sign that I'm not all knocked up again, I'm going to miss not bleeding every month.  I'm converting from a New Mom back into a Real Human.

Hamburglar's birthday was a big hit.  We had his party on Saturday and there were kind of a lot of people there.  We had a barbecue and I set the time from 1-3p.  We didn't start the grill until just after 1 and, if I were to do it again, I would have had Mr. Adventure start the grill a bit earlier and maybe do the pinata while the food was grilling.  But the food was great and it was a hit.

(Ignore the man texting in this picture.  He's the only person we let visit us in the hospital after Chumbercules was born.)


Well, the pinata wasn't a hit.  Because it was a pull-string pinata.  I stuffed it with bubbles, wind-up toys and Minion graham crackers.

I had a friend over on Friday night who helped me do things like: pick up dog poop and make little hot air balloons.

We made the hot air balloons out of paper lanterns I got on clearance at Pier One, some yarn I had lying around, and little gift boxes I found at the dollar store.  And the vases of flowers came from Whole Foods.  Today is Nick the Florist's birthday, too!







After she left, Little Miss Adventure helped me make cupcakes and a cheeseball.  The cupcakes burned.  Because my stove is old and the temperature gauge doesn't exactly work well.  But they were only a little burned, so I rolled with it.









For the cake, I made a Poke Cake.  Kind of.  I used a box of Devil's food cake, baked it, let the cupcakes cool over night (because they were burned and I was contemplating throwing them away).  The next morning, I saw that Mr. Adventure had eaten one of them, so I figured they weren't too burnt to eat.

I made concentrated cherry jello (I only used one cup of boiling water instead of adding a cup of cool water, too) and I poked holes in the tops of the cupcakes with a fork.  When I tried to pour the jello, I made a giant mess.  So, I decided to rip the top/center off of each cupcake and try again.

After successfully jello-ing each cupcake, I made the frosting.  I used vanilla pudding, concentrated (I only used 1 cup of milk to mix it) and beat it with a tub of Cool Whip.  It was pretty good.  Hamburglar got frosting in his eyes.

I also made an angel food/pineapple cake.  It's my go-to cake if I need a desert in a hurry.  You just take a box of angel food cake and a 20 oz. can of crushed pineapple, mix them together in a bowl, pour into a baking a dish and bake at 350 for about 20 minutes.  I only set the kitchen timer about half the time, so I'm never exactly sure how long things take.  I also use my hand as a measuring cup a lot of the time, so in half of my specialty recipes, I have no idea what is in them.  Like my hot wings.  People ask for the recipe all the time and I've given it to them, but no one can ever reproduce it.  I think because I do a lot of things by taste?  I don't know.

Anyway, that's about it.  Mr. Adventure has school tonight, so I think I'm going to take the baby on a dinner date somewhere.

Cold Turkey

I have a confession to make.  Pictures of breast milk gross me out.  I'm a member of a first time mom group and one of the moms posted a picture of her milk and I didn't like it.  I don't really like milk at all, so I would likely have the same reaction to milk of the bovine persuasion.  I can't even drink milk without thinking the word "pus" which automatically makes me put it down.  Milk is gross.

That said, I am 12 days away from my goal of breastfeeding Hamburglar for one year.  I was so focused on meeting this goal, I kind of neglected to research how to stop.  Just like when I was pregnant, I was so focused on being pregnant, that I kind of forgot about the delivery aspect until it was looming.  I mean, I know I can't quit breastfeeding cold turkey because that would just lead to mastitis or a plugged duct or something.  It seems like he's just kind of naturally eating less and less milk as time goes on, but I don't know.

I've read that you just cut out feedings here and there to wean a baby from the breast.  Like, one every three days.  But this is all so new and weird.  I'm excited to have my body back.  And I am proud that I have gone this far and not had to supplement with formula at all.

There were times when I thought I may have to.  And two nights ago Mr. Adventure suggested we start giving him formula at night when he wakes up hungry.  I just looked at him and asked why he doesn't want me to reach my goal?  Sure, I was overreacting and whatnot.  But at least I didn't start crying.  Which is probably what would have happened a couple of months ago.

We go see Dr. Soulpatch on the 19th and I figure I can ask him all my questions about quitting breastfeeding then.  Like: do I give him something else?  Like cow milk or donkey milk or something?  What are you supposed to feed/hydrate a baby with during that weird in-between baby and child stage?  What should I dress Hamburglar as for Halloween: Alex from A Clockwork Orange or the Chucky doll from the movies?

Only the important questions, of course.

With Hamburglar's birthday party right just 8 days away, we need to get the house cleaned and yard ready this weekend.  I used this rad website called ipiccy.com to convert pictures of Hamburglar into coloring sheets for his party.  Mr. Adventure called me a narcissist.  I am neither affirming nor denying this claim.  I still need to figure out what to put in the pinata.  Maybe liquor bottles for the grown ups and crayons and bouncy balls for the kids?

Chumbercules is no longer walking.  Now he is running.  Yesterday, he covered his eyes and ran across the living room, tripped over a toy, fell and started laughing hysterically.  That's my boy.

He also says the word "hat" while touching his head.  Sometimes it is a question.  Sometimes a statement.  Always the word hat.  No matter the situation.  It's pretty cute.  So, I have determined that he needs all the hats in the world for his birthday.

In dad/brain tumor news: It is cancer.  It's called plasmacytoma, a marrow cancer, and those have a really good rate of being treated with radiation therapy.  They're keeping him in Utah for at least another week at the Huntsman cancer center, which is allegedly very good.

Head to toe

Things have been a bit out of hand in the Land of Adventure.

First was the Portland road trip, which was probably the shittiest trip I've had in a very long time.  Hamburglar was great.  He is still my favorite road trip companion.  In fact, we had so much fun in the car on Mama Baby Road Trip 2.0, we went for a 3.0.  But more on that later.

We were staying with a friend in Portland who has always been a bit like a second mother or an older sister or something.  But she's getting divorced and has gone kind of crazy.  We were going to stay four nights with her, but we stayed two because neither of us were getting any sleep.  So we decided to go to the beach and get a hotel.  Silly me didn't think about the fact that it was the second to last weekend before school started, so we drove from seaside to Astoria while Mr. Adventure, back at home, called every hotel in the world.  They were all booked.  We ended up driving to Longview and got the last hotel room in town.  Mr. Adventure said it was called the "Town Shallot."  It was the Town Chalet and it was GROSS.  And creepy.  And room 13 was the only room available.



We then had to go back to Portland to get my Boba out of the friend's dining room, then we went to brunch with another friend.  On the way back home, we stopped for the night in The Dalles.  We had a swim in the pool, a shower, some food and Sophie the Giraffe and I shared a Lemon Drop.

The best part of the trip was stopping at the Bonneville Dam on the way down.  Though, there was a van full of a family of people that looked pretty imbred that parked two spaces away from me, where I was sitting in the back of the car breastfeeding the baby.  The dad walked around to where I was sitting in my car and stared through the window at me while he walked by and I gave him the finger and his kids and grandma all hung out at the back of the car.  When one of them leaned on it, I may or may not have yelled, "Get off my fucking car you cunt!"  They were all wearing matching orange shirts.  Except grandma.  But I bought Chumbercules his first pocket knife from the gift shop!  It even had his name on it.  Well, the abbreviated, casual version of his name, but I wasn't expecting to find a pocket knife that actually said "Chumbercules."  And what 11 month old doesn't need a pocket knife?

Last weekend, my best-friend from college came out to visit Chumby and I.  We went to the Farmer's Market and wandered around downtown a bunch and she bought a fancy new belt and buckle.  Sophie the Giraffe and I shared a beer.  I think she might be a lush.  But this Kolsch from Ninkasi was pretty good.

And Hamburglar started walking on Monday!  He's getting better and better at it every day.  If I want a good laugh, I just put a pair of shoes on him and watch him walk around.  I read that 3 out of 4 babies are walking by 12 months.

Then, on Tuesday, I was making dinner and my dad called because my stepmom was out of town and he needed a ride to the ER.  He has a brain tumor behind his right eye.  We all (me, stepmom, Hamburglar, local brother) drove him down to Salt Lake to see the Neurosurgery specialist guy at University of Utah hospital.  My oldest brother and favorite sister-in-law got into town that night, so they're staying with my stepmom and my dad is scheduled for surgery on Tuesday.  They are hoping they can pull it out through his nose.  I guess we will see.  People keep asking if I'm okay, and I'm fine.  Worrying won't help anything.  And, statistically, people that have family and friends with them before surgery have a more positive outcome.  I think I'm going to fly back down to SLC on Tuesday because, right now, I kind of never want to be in my car again.  Keep your fingers crossed that it isn't cancer.

In non-brain-tumor news: Chumby is going to Dog Park Baby's first birthday party tomorrow!  And I'm picking up Little Miss Adventure from school today and am excited to hear about her first week of first grade.

And that's about it.  Like I said, it's been kind of crazy around here.  Hopefully they get dad's brain all sorted out and my favorite baby continues to do awesome and amazing new things.

Late bloomer

Hamburglar isn't walking on his own, yet.  but that's okay because I guess I'm a bit of a late bloomer, too.

I didn't realize it, but it seems I was coming down with a case of the crazies.  I remember around 6 months postpartum, I thought that I might have a delayed postpartum depression or something, so I googled it to see if it's a thing (it is) and then I pushed the idea out of mind.

Not sleeping for about a year, combined with anxiety and worry about the baby and everyone's well-being and not taking care of myself... I was becoming unbearable to be around and I didn't even realize it.  I wasn't feeling as bonded to Hamburglar as I had earlier on, I was really short with Mr. Adventure and Little Miss Adventure.  Apparently it got bad enough that Mr. Adventure was done.  He called me on my shit and we had a super serious conversation.  I Hadn't realized that most of our conversations had been reduced to exchanging information about when Chumbercules last napped/ate/whether he'd pooped that day...

So, after our conversation, I found a local postpartum support group.  I said I need sleep.  Mr. Adventure said he needs to not be micromanaged when he's caring for our son and that just because I'm mom doesn't make me right.  He made me let him help me.  The first night he cared for the baby through the night so I could sleep, I left the baby monitor on and I didn't sleep well because I was worried.  And that's when I really and truly realized that I can't live like that.  I need to take care of myself and let some stuff go.  I went to the postpartum support group and I was the only one who showed up, so I got a counselor all to myself for a little bit before I headed back to work.  She told me everything I already know - take care of myself, get rest, take time for myself and my partner, no one likes to be micromanaged - but it was good hearing it from a third party.

I re-read "To My Post-Partum Self: Things I wish I'd Known" and then I thought, "Hey!  This lady says things I need to hear more often."  So I googled her and found her website and her post "Self-Care for Moms."  And you know what she wrote in there?  She wrote this:

I’m teaching my kids—in the purest way possible, by modeling—that self-care is a priority. I can’t help but think this is a gift we’re giving them: You deserve care. You deserve time. You deserve health."

And I needed to read that.  It's so true.  What better way to teach my son to value and take care of himself than his father and I valuing and taking care of ourselves?  And my favorite 6 year old is going to be a teenager before we know it and I think we all know what can happen to a young lady who doesn't value and care for herself.

So I slept.  Mr. Adventure let me sleep.  I went to the chiropractor and got adjusted.  I spoke with that postpartum counselor, who is also a survivor of postpartum depression.  I went to the salon and paid someone to cut and color my hair.  And it looks amazing.  I'm also going on a five day Mama-baby road trip this weekend to spend time with my tribe.  Some of the most amazing strongest ladies I know live in the Portland area and I get to see them.  Chumbercules and I are going to hit the beach while we are out west, too.  It should be good.  And it will give Mr. Adventure time with his daughter, just the two of them, before they both have to go back to school.

And I've realized this week that I have to take care of me.  Because doing that makes me a better mom, a better step-mom and a better partner.  And probably a better dog-mom, too.

In other news:
Hamburglar used the word 'down' in context!  And he is taking two running steps, here and there, typically careening between the coffee table and the couch (or me).  And he has been invited to Dog Park Baby's 1st birthday party at the end of the month!  I mean, he's so handsome, who wouldn't want him at their party?

Don't forget to take your vitamins!

If you go back and read my posts from when I was pregnant, you will see that I talk about vitamin k shots here and here and about vaccines in general here.

Vitamin K shots have been in the news a lot lately because of several infants dying in a hospital in Tennessee.  What these infants had in common is that their parent(s) refused the vitamin K shot at birth and the babes were exclusively breast fed.  I guess formula is chock full of Vitamin K.  Who knew?

I read this article on Slate this week and they kind of grouped refusing the Vitamin K shot in with the anti-vaccine movement.  At first, I thought that was a bit unfair because they are different, but I think I only felt that way because my friend group views anti-vaxxers as a bunch of crazies and I was uncertain at first whether I should let Hamburglar have the vitamin K shot.

What's interesting is that, had I not known the shot was optional, I would not have questioned him getting it.  I wouldn't have done the research.  But, my midwife gave me that fancy birth plan worksheet (which I'm pretty sure nobody read) and it had 4 procedures that were optional, that I recall.  There was circumcision, hepatitis b vaccine, eye ointment and the vitamin K shot.  We didn't circumcise or do the hep B vaccine at birth because, as I told the doctor and my midwife, we aren't planning to let him have unprotected sex or use IV drugs until he's at least five and the hep B vaccine is included at the 2, 4, and 6 month check-ups.  And I didn't want to be stuck in the hospital any longer than necessary and the shot makes babies groggy and not eat well and can cause a slight fever and blah blah blah.

Anyway, after deciding those two factors, I turned my attention to eye ointment and vitamin K.  (Mr. Adventure left all these decisions up to me because I have stronger opinions about them, I guess).  Since I didn't want him to go blind or have brain damage or die, I opted in favor of both of these procedures.  The website Evidence Based Birth has a great piece on the vitamin K vaccine.  It breaks everything down really well and explains the risks super clearly.

After reading that Slate article, I started thinking about why?  Why do people opt out of vaccinating or vitamin shots or whatever?  I think it is because when you deliver in hospital, you aren't given very many choices and there's a lot of pressure placed on women to come up with a birth plan and define how they want their birth experience and how they want their baby to experience his first moments in the world.  Since the Vitamin K shot is one of those choices, I know that I did a ton of research and asked a lot of questions before I gave my consent.  But that's only because I knew it was a choice.  Making something optional makes some people think it is unnecessary.

I also think this is more about control than anything else.  In a society where parents can be placed under investigation for allowing their child to walk to the library by herself, desperate parents are grasping for control wherever they can.  But I also think there is a better way to do it.

 So, that's what I've been thinking about.

In Hamburglar news, he's been standing unassisted longer and longer.  I think walking may happen soon!  He's also been cruising around the house with his Radio Flyer Walker Wagon, though he hasn't mastered the art of turning.  He's also figured out that things (like the bed) have edges and he is no longer keen on leaping to his death.  And he had his first Mongolian Barbecue and it was delicious.

Misconceptions

So, back when I was pregnant last summer (and it was hot as balls outside and I thought I was going to die) I read a lot about how my body would change during pregnancy but there were some things that I was completely misinformed about, in spite of all my reading:

1. You know how your areolas get all dark during pregnancy?  I thought they would stay that way.  They don't.  I think they only get dark so the baby can find your nipple right after he's born.  But I'm too tired to find an actual link to support that theory.
2. I already wrote about how my ribs moved when I was pregnant.  I had no idea that this would happen, so it's not really a misconception, but it still freaks me out.  And my ribs still haven't moved back, so I'm either going to have to start wearing corsets or burn half of my wardrobe.
3. I thought that you bled for six weeks after the baby came.  I was all excited about not having a period during pregnancy, then I interpreted something I read as saying, "you're going to bleed for six weeks" so then I was less happy, but then after the baby was born and I talked to my midwife, I learned you only bleed for a couple of days, but weird fluids can come out of you for up to six weeks.  Gross.  
4. I thought breastfeeding would be super easy, but it wasn't in the beginning.  And I thought pumping would be super easy, but I still hate it.  And you hear about ladies having over supply and under supply, but I have just enough supply.

And I think that's it.

Chumbercules is 10 months, still.  And he's still cruising and he stands independently sometimes and he's started climbing things, like his sister's step stool.  Maybe if the pediatrician is still concerned about his weight at his 12 month check up, I will get him a stair master.  Because that would be funny.

It's (not) a competition

I didn't think I would catch it.  That weird, hyper-competitive thing you see between parents on TV.  And I don't think I have it bad... yet.

I've been talking to Dog Park Girl.  Her daughter was born a few weeks before Hamburglar and she started standing independently and took her first steps all right at 9 months.  She sent me a video of her baby walking the other day and part of me (the part that responded to the text) thought, "How wonderful!" and the other part of me thought, "Fuck you."  Because I'm awesome.  Or terrible.  Or both.

It was all fine that she was walking back when she had to wear a helmet for her flat spot, but now she got her helmet off, too.

It's totally dumb that I have to remind myself that just because other babies are accomplishing things earlier doesn't mean that Hamburglar isn't super rad.  And I feel like an asshole.  Probably because I am one.

At least Chumbercules is still cuter than dog park baby.

In other news of babies that are stupidly adorable...

Have you guys seen the pictures of Prince George?  So. Fucking. Cute.

Also, I got a bubble machine from Target.  The baby loves it.

And he has started giving hugs, which is pretty much the best thing in the world.  If he gave hugs and slept, I would be over the moon.

I was carrying a bag of dog food the other day and Little Miss Adventure asked me, "How much does that weigh?"
"35 pounds," I said.
"How much do you weigh?"
"36 pounds."
"Wow!  You're really strong!"

Six year olds are awesome.

I've decided I'm going to start trying to make friends/impress people the same way little kids do.  So, internet, look how fast I can run!  And look how big of a bite I can take!

I need a nap.