and...Action!
These days my life seems to be resembling a stand-up comedy routine, which I suppose is better than a drama - oh wait, that's another blog entry.
Take One: Whip out the boob in the middle of my therapy appointment, which actually suddenly makes me more uncomfortable than if I were in a crowded restaurant since I've been trying to figure out if my therapist is a lesbian or not - which wouldn't change how much I worship her one iota but just makes me feel extra aware that my now bare flapjack is not just for feeding babies and my mind drifts to wondering who (lesbians? straight men? anyone?) finds the sight of a woman breastfeeding sexually attractive. Generally when I let out one of my ladies to feed in front of anyone other than say my mom, husband, sister or close girlfriend who is or has breastfed her own, I feel this sudden change in the air so slight it's like the whistle only dogs can hear. It's as if I can read on the invisible electronic scrolling banner on their foreheads them thinking: Ok, she's going to breastfeed 2 feet in front of me without covering up, it's cool, I'm not fazed, just keep eye contact, keep eye contact, keep eye contact. There's just something about someones gaze when you know they are trying so hard to keep eye contact. Why don't they just look? Get it over with, take a glance down, it won't bite you and I won't freak out. If I didn't expect, or care, for it to be looked at I would use the hooter hider I have, but I just can't be bothered it. I feel like I have to be some double jointed cirque de soleil acrobat to use those things. Maybe it's just me. I also feel like the baby can't be too comfortable with it either, the air getting stale in there etc. Interestingly though, I was way more free about where I fed Tyler (after I got over the first time of "oh my god, I'm whipping out my boob in public!") than I am with Teagan, as if having a girl has brought out some modesty in me.
Where was I? Oh yeah, therapy. So I'm burping the lil girl as I like to do with her sitting upright laying against my chest as I pat her back and I'm staring out the window blurry eyed from tears in the middle of a particularly emotional memory recount so I'm rather mechanically and absently patting Teagan. At first I just hear the burp, but it sounds wet and then I feel a warmth cascade down between my ladies as I'm snapped out of my story. Lovely, she's urped right down the front of me and I have no burp cloth (which of course is meant to be used BEFORE this happens) or more importantly no change of shirt for myself. Oh well, I'm going right home afterwards so I give a little chuckle, grab a bunch of kleenex from the box on the side table next to me and wipe myself off. After my session ends I head for the bathroom, the tear spigot still not turned off, needing to take a minute to bawl in the privacy of a stall before composing myself to face the elevator crowds and of course to make sure I wiped up all the urp. On my way I see a 20-30'ish attractive guy in the OBGYN waiting room with a tee shirt that reads "I love my girlfriend" and I want so badly to go up to him and tell him that's the best shirt ever but of course am in no state to do so. Can only imagine his reaction to some crying lady smelling of baby vomit commenting him on his shirt as he's already uncomfortable waiting for this girlfriend to finish up with her girl doctor business. As I'm heading to the elevators post bathroom bawl, composure & clean-up I notice the dude is gone since I was going to go compliment him then but it was probably for the best.
Lessons learned: carry burp cloth AND USE IT, find Tony a shirt that says "I love my wife".
Take Two: Back in therapy the following week, I whip out my handy and somewhat fashionable burp cloth (if that's possible, it's pink vs plain white) after having breastfed again (maybe I should try to time my feedings better so I'm not always doing so in therapy!) and am pleased to get a big, fat belch outta my little angel but no liquid cottage cheese down the front of me - or at all for that matter but hey, better safe than sorry! This time though, Teagan lets'r rip out the other end. Ooooh, good thing I ran back into the house to get the back-up diaper change supplies even though I was totally running late for my appointment. After my session ends I change Teagan in the bathroom and am surprised not to see any poop but the diap is heavy with pee so I give her a fresh one anyway. It just so happens I have my 6 week post-delivery follow up Gyn appointment immediately following therapy (they are in the same building) so soon I'm legs up in stirrups discussing birth control options with my doc as I hear the loudest butt squirt imaginable from such a tiny human come from the stroller and I think "oh thank gawd I brought 2 extra diapers with me!" Well, what I didn't bring with me was a change of clothes for Teagan for what turned out to be the biggest diap blow-out of her little life so far. Mustard yellow baby poo-goo halfway up her back, on her little jumper and on the swaddle blanket she was laying on - Fantastic! And here I'd been dropped off by Tony with the stroller so I could head downtown for a little Tiff shopping after my appts. Well the outfit was brown so the disaster wasn't visible and I did my best to clean her up so after assessing my qualifications as the worst mother ever by going ahead downtown to shop with Teagan wearing her poo, I boarded the muni bus 37 Geary bound for Union Square. Teagan was not impressed and made me pay for it by refusing to stop crying unless I held her, and even then not always, which made clothes shopping and trying on very difficult. I was determined to find some new things for myself though now that I've purged virtually my entire wardrobe and tried to ignore the concerned/irritated/disapproving sideways glances I was getting right and left as I weaved my way through Old Navy and ultimately purchased a few sweet tops. If only it had ended there. Oh no, now I had to get on the bart train to get home. What a long journey...I draw the line at breastfeeding on public transportation and by now Teagan was hungry (I actually had fed her when we first got to Union Square, using the ladies "lounge" at Saks but that was a little while ago) and since the wind was blowing like some baby hurricane on my walk home from the bart station I had to let my baby cry in the stroller as I duck walked as fast as I could those 7 blocks. What a completely frazzling day.
Lessons learned: Bring change of clothes for Teagan whenever I leave the house. Don't leave the house unless absolutely necessary and only for the shortest amount of time possible. Hahaha - but seriously, that was supposed to be therapeutic shopping time for me?! I just need to chill and wait for Teagan to get a little older, say 3-6 months old, when she's not so overstimulated by everything outside home and I'm more well rested and she's just plain 'ol easier to take out.
Take Three: So much for bringing a burp cloth and change of clothes for Teagan...back at my old nanny gig as a fill-in for my mom one day this week, Lil Girl does more than just urp on me, she yacks up all that she just sucked down. All over my shirt, my bra and my skirt. I've heard you should carry a back-up shirt for yourself but a whole outfit?! I know I must sound like a first time mom but Tyler just never spit up or threw up! I managed to keep any of the vomit from getting on Teagan since I'd already changed her outfit because she'd blown out her diap and I didn't bring 2 changes of clothes for her. I contemplated throwing my pukewear into the washer but didn't think it would look so cool if one of the parents came home and I was running around with the 3 little boys just wearing my bra and undies, and I wasn't about to go rummage through the mom's drawers for something to throw on in the meantime. So I just stank like puke the rest of the day!
We were supposed to go out for dinner that night for a good friend of Tony's birthday and we'd be cutting it close time wise by the time I drove home from San Jose. It was a warm day and that hour drive home made me feel sweaty and gross since I didn't want to turn on the a/c and I already needed to do something about the vomit smell emanating from me so I figured a quick shower would solve everything. Tony had run out to get a birthday gift so my plan was to put Teagan in the bouncy chair while I took a quick shower but that didn't take into account Tyler waking up from sleeping the whole ride home a total toddler wreckage. From the minute I stopped the car and he opened his eyes he started crying. Unfortunately this had become routine when I was nannying twice a week before Teagan arrived, he'd sleep all the way home and upon arrival wake and turn into Inconsolable Ian, crying & screaming & garbling "momma." I've tried many different tactics to calm him or just get through it - hugging him, ignoring him, threatening him with a time-out, you name it. Generally it has to play out OR sometimes when he gets some food in his tummy it stops but that's a challenge since he's too upset, bawling and has his fingers in his mouth. I usually end up feeding him myself and something I know he really likes, then once he's calmed down he can feed himself and the storm has passed. The best resolution was making sure he got a nap during the day and therefore didn't sleep on the way home and arrive as Hyde. But that wasn't the case this particular evening and I was trying to get ready to go out and Tony still wasn't home. I tried ignoring him as I got Teagan into the bouncy chair and sat her in the bathroom and then I offered him a granola bar which he took and actually quieted down briefly as he ate but as I stripped off my clothes he ratcheted up again so I sat him on the closed toilet lid and just headed into the shower. He sobbed the whole 3 minutes I was in there while next to him down on the floor Teagan stared into space like a zombie but was quiet. As soon as I stepped out of the shower she decided to chime in with her brother! I had too little time to stop and try anything I knew wouldn't work anyway short of cuddling Tyler up in my lap and sticking a boob in Teagan's mouth so I just stayed the course of getting ready. I picked up the bouncy chair with Teagan crying in it, told Tyler loudly over his crying that I was going upstairs to get dressed and he should follow me if he wanted and I headed up. He made it as far as the bottom of the staircase and just sat there wailing and crying "momma, momma" which was utterly heartbreaking and yet I knew he was ultimately ok. As I raced around getting dressed Teagan screamed and screamed. I heard Tony come home and try to console Tyler to no avail and then I heard what I almost never hear, Tony got frustrated and his tone changed and instead of "it's ok Babu, don't cry" it was "STOP CRYING TYLER!" I half smiled to myself that Tony was feeling the frustration I do more often lately and that it got to him too. So then it was me and the screaming little girl upstairs and Tony and the wailing little man downstairs and so I called out "Yay Parenthood!" to which I heard Tony chuckle. We somehow made it into the car without murdering our children or turning on each other and as soon as the car started the howling ceased completely. Aaaaah, we made it and we gave each other a look of exhausted triumph and squeezed each others hands.
Lessons learned: none. Well actually there's various little things I learned but I'll spare the explanation and just say sometimes you just can't help these times but the biggest key to getting through it is to stay calm and as unaffected as possible.
CUT!
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