Tuesday's Tribute - To Caitlin

We had quite a scare with little Kaylee last week.

Long story short - we had to take her to a children's hospital a couple hours away to get her to a specialist that could treat her for a nasty complication of an ear infection. More on that tomorrow - today is about Caitlin, an amazing nurse that cared for Kaylee 2 of the 3 nights we were in the hospital with her.

She was to the moon and back amazing. She was so gentle, and so patient with Kaylee. She let her play with the stethoscope, thermometer, just talked quietly to her and took her time in gaining Kaylee's trust.

Caitlin was constantly coming in to check on Kaylee, and to check on us, and she did a lot of the jobs that nurses normally leave for the CNAs - there was nothing she wouldn't do. If she ever got tired of my never-ending questions about what was going on with Kaylee and what the plan was, she never acted annoyed. She just answered every question as best as she could.

She told us that at that hospital, they don't just treat the patients, they treat the whole family, so she was constantly reminding Dennis and I that we needed to take care of ourselves, get out of the room every now and then, and making sure we were doing well.

She gave me hugs and talked me down from a potential panic attack. She was the only one, out of all the nurses that took care of her during our time there, that Kaylee was not uneasy around. Kaylee trusted her. She played with her. She smiled and waved at her. She wasn't afraid of her like she was most of the other nurses.

Aside from one terrible nurse that we had during 2 different day shifts, the other nurses weren't bad, but they just didn't go above and beyond like Caitlin did.

I could tell she genuinely cared about my baby and her health, as well as our whole family.

She did a phenomenal job, and we will never forget how she helped us get through the scariest thing we've had to deal with as parents to date.

*This post is a part of Tuesday's Tribute over at Angie's 7 Clown Circus.

Tuesday's Tribute - To nursery decor to die for

Last week I told you all I was setting out to organize and redecorate Kaylee's nursery, and this week I'll be showing you some of the progress. Today, you'll get a little sneak peak of a few things you'll be seeing.

I love supporting women who own their own businesses, and that's why I've always loved browsing shops on Etsy, where there are all sorts of fun handmade goodies.

When I was thinking of things to put on Kaylee's walls, I decided I wanted some photographs and some artwork, but I wanted the art to be really special, not baby-ish, and something that would fit with the colors we already have (reds, pinks, and sage greenish colors).

You can imagine my delight when I found this little shop on Etsy. (Click the image to visit shop.)


I found so many pieces that I ADORE.

So, before I show you the finished nursery in the next couple of weeks, here's a preview of some pieces that will be on Kaylee's wall. I just love the artist's style. Bold. Simple. Too cute. Love it.

These are two 8x10 prints that are going in a little reading corner I made for Kaylee in her room.






































And, since I'm not made of money, I had to stop with this next set. The print with the verse on it will be customized with Kaylee's name at the bottom, and it will be 8x10. The other two prints will be 5x7.
























































Definitely go check this Etsy shop out. They've got really cute stuff for boys, too, and there are several other pieces I'd love to have. Here's a little sample of some of the other work.

This post is a part of Tuesday's Tribute over at Angie's 7 Clown Circus - a weekly feature where we shed the spotlight on someone else for a change. Go check it out!

Tuesday's Tribute - To 3-hour naps and hail storms

I remember when I thought this day would never come...

The day my baby girl would actually NAP. Before she was one, she was on a napping strike, and it drove me batty. Her pediatrician said it was fine. I said, "No, it's NOT fine! It's driving me CRAYZAY!!!" Seriously, I don't know how I made it through the first year with no naps from my child.

Thankfully, she's now at this miraculous point in her life where she is ready for a nap around 11 or 11:30, and if I don't have her in her bed, she actually asks for "night night." Usually, I get about 2 hours from her, which is great.

Gives me time to blog, watch TV, do chores, not do chores. It's fabulous.

Well, today, we had a monster hail and rain storm, so I shut off the computers so they didn't get zapped if lightning struck close by or something.

I had just put the baby down for a nap and turned off the computer, and then my 3 hours (now...close to FOUR) of bliss began. I was so thankful for the storm because the computer is a HUGE distraction for me, and to be quite honest, it's also quite an escape. I can pretend there are no chores to be done, no bills to be paid, no stress. But, without the distraction, I got so much done!

Two epidoes of Army Wives were watched.
Two loads of laundry were completed.
Lunch was eaten.
A snack was eaten.
Lots of water was consumed.
Many trips to the bathroom followed.
I matched (or threw away) the socks from the bag of socks who lost their match.
I filled a bag of old clothes to donate, and a bag to trade in for credit at a resale store.
I had a conversation with my brother.
I talked to my husband.

It. was. AMAZING. 3-hour nap - you are my new favorite thing. I love you. Dearly. Please come back to me. Tomorrow? And the next day?

Now, go ahead and march your little bootie on over to Angie's 7 Clown Circus for more Tuesday Tributes.

Tuesday's Tribute - to therapy in a to-go box

Yes, yes. I know I could shell out 80 bucks an hour and get what they call "real" therapy, but why should I do that when I can pay $3.50 and get it in a to-go box?















Ahhhh, yes...my fat and calorie laden therapy, covered in lemon butter cream frosting, sprinkled with big sugar granules and little silver candies that look like Christmas ornaments.

And it won't make me sit on a big cushy couch and ask me, "But, how does that make you feeeeel?"

Yep, just what the doctor ordered.

This post is a part of Tuesday's Tribute over at Angie's 7 Clown Circus.

Tribute to Elmo - the orginal gateway drug for babies

I swore we would have nothing to do with Elmo.

Then, my aunt sent me some DVDs her boys outgrew. When I saw the Elmo video, I paused for a moment as I envisioned driving down the interstate doing 75 and chucking it out the window with a blissful smile on my face.

But, logic took over. I decided I better hang on to it. Kaylee might want to watch it someday. Maybe she'd wake up and decide she was just too cool for the Veggie Tales. One never knows about these things, so I put it with the rest of our DVDs, and hoped it stayed right there. In the DVD box. With the lid on. Never to come out. Ever.

Now, I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure it was my husband who eventually dug it out, popped it in the DVD player, and introduced Kaylee to the gateway drug known as Elmo. I fear that this may lead to other even more powerful and annoying baby addictions such as the Wiggles. God help me...

Anyway, Elmo now runs through her veins. I can hardly tell her no when she looks at me with her pleading puppy dog eyes, a hopeful look on her face and utters the cutest little, "Ewmow???" you ever heard in your whole life.

Her face lights up, her smile becomes a mile wide, and she claps like a fool as soon as the movie starts.

And now, as we've been at home for 2 days giving her breathing treatments for the beast called bronchitis, Ewmow (in combination with a pacifier) is about the only thing that can get her to calm down.

Stupid Ewmow has also caused me to cave in ways I never thought I would. As we waited for her prescription at the pharmacy yesterday, we strolled down the baby aisle and found the thing I am ashamed to admit that I've been looking for - a stuffed Elmo that does. not. make. NOISE.

Oh, sweet miracle from Jesus.

She got the stuffed Elmo.

And this morning, when I drove to Wal-Mart at 6:30 in the morning to get a temporal lobe thermometer so I didn't have to hold the old fashioned one under her armpit for 87 minutes, I also got her a new Elmo DVD and a Sesame Street songs DVD.

Dang frickin' helium-filled Elmo got inside my head, too. I've already watched his DVD five - count 'em - FIVE times today, and I'm already getting jittery and sweaty, just jonesin' for another episode. I hope I can resist the temptation until Kaylee wakes back up from her nap.

So, you little crazy-eyed monster, this week, my tribute is to you. Not because I think you're even the slightest bit funny, cute, or entertaining (even though you look totally bad ass in your rapper costume when you sing hip hop songs)...


...but because you make my baby so happy. And for that, I'm grateful.

Head on over to Angie's 7 Clown Circus to read about what other bloggers are paying tribute to this week.

Tuesday's Tribute - To exceptional customer service

Not too long ago, I wrote a post about a great day that I had. I had time to myself, went shopping, ate at one of my favorite restaurants, enjoyed a good book, held a newborn baby. It was a fabulous day.

I happened to mention that there were sneaky little red onion pieces scattered throughout my otherwise delectable Turkey Waldorf Salad that I got at Wildflower Bread Company. It was a small part of my post, but just a few short days after the post went up, I came to realize that my little mention of the onions (of which I had asked to not be included) did not fall upon deaf ears.

I received an email from the founder of Wildflower Bread Company, Louis Basile, who was rather bummed to find out that my salad wasn't prepared just as I ordered it. We've emailed a couple of times about the experience, and I can't tell you how flabbergasted I was to actually receive an email from the founder of the company itself. Each email was personal, and obviously not a canned response to an email.

We've all experienced the checker at the grocery store who didn't give a rip and had no personality, and we've all had experiences with pushy retail people or businesses who don't operate with the customer's best interest in mind.

In a time when people are in such a hurry and so many are all just about making a buck, it was so refreshing for me to have such a positive experience with a restaurant that I love. The Wildflower Bread Company has been a favorite place for me and my girl friends when we have a mom's night out, and just like I talked about in my previous post, it's also a place I love to go even by myself.

A few unwanted red onions wouldn't have stopped me from going back to Wildflower - I realize people make mistakes, so it really wasn't a big deal. But, the fact that this company cares so much about keeping their customers happy has definitely sealed the deal in making me a lifelong customer. And, Mr. Basile is sending a coupon for a complimentary meal for my next visit.

I just wanted to make sure and recognize Mr. Basile and his restaurant for going above and beyond. It's also a nice reminder to all of us that good customer service is still alive and kicking!

This post is a part of Tuesday's Tribute over at Angie's 7 Clown Circus.

Because a therapist won't split dessert with you.

From the time we are little girls bopping around in our pig tails and our pink sparkly jelly shoes, we realize the importance of finding good girl friends.

Girl friends who will appreciate the beauty of 25 cent fake purple gemstone ring from a machine. Girl friends who will have tea parties and play barbies and watch Cinderella with you 87 times. Girl friends who vow to stay up until 4 a.m. at the sleepover and watch scary movies your parents would never allow you to watch, all while gorging on Cheetos, Twizzlers, and Mountain Dew and painting your toenails all the colors of the rainbow.

Those stupid boys were always too busy eating dirt and sticking firecrackers up frog's butts anyway. Who needed them?

I've had many girl friends who have come and go as I've grown up. But, once you get a little bit older, you really understand the substance of a true friendship.

You realize that when you've been friends since you were 5, and over 20 years have gone by, you'll always be friends.

You realize that when you live 10 minutes away and haven't seen each other face-to-face in 3 months and you can still pick up right where you left off as if a day hasn't gone by, you'll always be friends.

You realize that when you can talk about your struggles and your faults and your scariest thoughts and they look you in the eyes and say, "I know exactly what you mean," you'll always be friends.

At this time in my life, I've got lots of friends - guys, girls, people quite a bit older than me, some a bit younger than me. They all have something different to offer - Wisdom. Experience. Humor. Spontaneity. Brutal honesty - and they're all very important to me.

But...I can count on my hand the number of girl friends I have that I can go to with absolutely anything in the world without fear of judgment. And, even then - I'd have some left over fingers.

Recently, I've had the chance to have some quality girl time with two of my closest girl friends, on separate occasions. We set aside a special day, found a place for the kiddos to go, and enjoyed time together to catch up, to bitch, share new milestones our babies reached, talk about work, talk about our husbands, our stresses, our joys, and to just. be. REAL.

I don't know what I'd do without these girl friends.

We can talk about anything - things that would terrify other people if they knew. Our friendships have deepened with the shared experiences of motherhood, and we lean on each other like we cannot lean on anyone else.

I love these friends dearly, and I don't know where I'd be without them. Well, actually, I think I DO know where I'd be without them.

I'd be in several hours of therapy each week, but rare is the therapist who listens to you for free and splits dessert with you.

This post is a part of Tuesday's Tribute over at Angie's 7 Clown Circus.

My mom, the rock star.

26 years ago today, my mom was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Not many people are inducted into the Hall of Fame on the very first day they become a rock star, but my mom was.

Let me back up a bit...

On the day Kaylee was born, at some point after I got my friggin' awesome epidural (Dr. K - I still love you!), I remember telling my mom she was a rock star for getting me into this world without any pain medication.

Seriously. She is.

I also told her I needed to call all the women in my family who birthed children without pain meds (some of them multiple children) - because they were all rock stars.

It was my birthday today. I got the lunch and dinner out at 2 restaurants of my choosing. I got the cake, the cannoli, the cheesecake, the presents and all the attention, but really, we should have had a party for my mom.

All I did that day was pop out and then poop and pee all over everything while I screamed my head off. Seriously - why should that deserve a party? She did all the hard work.

You're my rock star, Mom. I love you. Much more than chocolate, even. Of course. ;)

Your Sera B.

This post is a part of Tuesday's Tribute over at 7 Clown Circus.

Tuesday's Tribute - To fresh air

Ahhhhh...fresh air. Don't you love it?

I grew up in small towns in the Midwest, and some of my fondest childhood memories were of times when I was outside.

A few favorite fresh air memories...

Waiting until the sun was shining on my grandma's swing set so we could go outside and play on it.

Catching frogs.

Fishing.

Learning how to skip rocks from my Gramps.

Playing in the rock forts behind my grandparents' house with my cousins.

Swimming in the plastic kiddie pool in the backyard.

Running through sprinklers in the summer.

Jumping rope.

Playing jacks.

Building sand castles and volcanoes in the sand box.

Building snowmen and sledding.

Going camping and hunting.

The list goes on and on.

I suppose since it was such a huge part of my childhood, my love for the outdoors is just stuck with me for life, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

To me, there is just something so peaceful about getting away from the hustle and bustle. Getting away from sirens, honking horns, all the sounds of the city, and going to a place where you can't hear much of anything.

My favorite places to go are places where it's so quiet I can hear the wind rustling the leaves on the trees, I can hear the birds chirping, and where I can hear streams of water. The air is crisp, and clean, and just so darn refreshing.

I still love fishing, hiking, swinging at the park, camping (in a tent, not a camper) going for walks, skipping rocks...just being outside in general.

Oftentimes, when I start to realize that I'm losing my patience and feeling cooped up, Kaylee and I go outside. The fresh air hits her face and she just opens her mouth wide like she's trying to capture it. Just like this.















There really is nothing like a breath of fresh air.

So, when I heard about the Fresh Air Fund, I could hardly wait to tell you about it.

The Fresh Air fund provides upwards of 5,000 kids from New York City's roughest neighborhoods the chance to spend a couple weeks in the country or the suburbs during the summer months.

I can't imagine what my childhood would have been like had I not been able to be outside so much. I think every kid deserves to have an opportunity to enjoy the fresh air without having to worry about all the stuff that kids in the inner-city have to worry about.

The Fresh Air Fund needs volunteer families to host kiddos for a couple weeks this summer. If you can't do that, or if you don't live in an area that needs host families, you can help by donating to this awesome organization. Click here to find out if host families are needed in your area, and click here to learn more about this organization that's all about helping kids get the most out of childhood.

This post is a part of Tuesdays' Tribute hosted by Angie at Seven Clown Circus.

Tuesday's Tribute - To being beautiful, dammit.

In my recent quest to become more healthy, Summer's recent Blogversations video about a lady named Rachel Caplin and her book entitled, "I'm Beautiful, Dammit!" could not have come at a more perfect time.

I've already talked about my struggle with weight before having Kaylee and how I successfully changed my habits, became more active, and started eating healthier. I used the Weight Watchers method, only weighed myself once per week, as the program recommends for weigh ins, and I learned to have a totally different way of thinking about food.

I could enjoy food that wasn't made just of sugar and carbs. I could be full, satisfied, and healthy. I could have fun at the gym. I could feel good about myself, and I could go about it in a healthy way.

Then I had a baby.

Nothing on my body is the same or will ever be the same. Ever. Again. It's been a huge struggle for me.

I get sad that I no longer have the body I used to have.

Really, though - it's the same body, it's just been through a considerable amount of wear and tear. Unfortunately, so has my mind. I can deal with my body. I can buy clothes that fit. I can go to the gym. I can eat healthy food and smart portions, but what in tarnation can I do to get my mind to shift gears?

What can I do to start realizing that I am fine just the way I am? That my body is not ugly. That I should quit criticizing myself for not being an ideal size or shape.

For starters, I'm joining Summer in getting rid of the scale. It's moving to the garage where I no longer have to stare at it every morning. The garage floor is cold and has bits of gravel brought in by the car tires. And bugs. I hate bugs. So, I won't be going out to the garage to weigh myself.

Next, I've ordered myself this book.


















I've recently discovered Rachel Caplin's blog "Oh my God, I'm a Mom" as well as her newest blog, "I'm Beatiful, Dammit," and I am just waiting for the delivery guy to knock on my door so I can crack the book open and dive right in. I know that reading a book won't change anything overnight, but Rachel really has a way with words, and she really makes me think. She helps me see things in a realistic perspective, and I think a lot of what she has to say will help me jumpstart my mind to thinking in a way that is not so harsh.

So this week, my Tuesday's Tribute is to Rachel, her book and her blogs. Please go check her out. You will love her honesty (hello - she talks about pooping on the delivery table without any shame), her humor, and her insightful thoughts about surving motherhood.

Unless you think you are a perfect mother who never struggles and never screws up, I know you'll be able to relate to so much of what she has to say. Here's how you can check out what Rachel has to say...

Click here to check out Rachel's book.

Click here to read Rachel's blog, "Oh my God I'm a Mom."

Click here to read her other blog, "I'm Beautiful, Dammit."

A Jay and Deb Production.

Tuesday's Tribute - To the hurting

I've tried real hard not to make a habit of writing my blog posts at midnight.

I mean, although Kaylee knows how to sleep through the night, she hasn't exactly made a habit out of it, so I like to get to bed at a decent hour so I'm all ready to fight the battle of poopy diapers or old ladies with walkers (working at home, or working at the hospital), depending on the day.

But today - today I'm writing my post at midnight. Because tonight is different.

In case you're new around here, I work part-time as a hospital social worker. This week just so happens to be my week on call.

It's 5:30 p.m. and I've got a pot of spaghetti noodles and a skillet with meat sauce bubbling away on the stove. I'm in my comfy pajamas, and that dag blasted friggin' pager goes off. Two more minutes and I'd have been on the couch enjoying some Italiano and watching Sunday's episode of Celebrity Apprentice.

But....no.

From time to time, I whine and complain about my struggle with balancing work and home. I've even been known to complain about having to go in to work at all (or, God forbid, having to work a whopping four days in a row *gasp*).

But, the truth is, in such a time as this, I should keep my yapper shut. I'm very thankful to have a job when there are so many out there looking and looking, but not finding.

My job gives me the flexibility to stay home part of the time and be with my baby while she's still a baby. But, my job also means there are a lot of messed up people out there, and it's my job to try and help them.

Tonight I saw a lady who tried to end her own life. Thankfully, she didn't, and she ended up agreeing to go and get some help. So, tonight I can't just come home and go to sleep. I'm wide awake, and I need to do something to get my mind off of her problems.

Sometimes I wonder why I chose the job I did.

I see some really terrible things. Moms who smoke crack while they drive to the hospital to deliver their babies (no joke), people who commit such despicable crimes that they are cuffed to the bed rails, people who come in over and over again after being beat up by their boyfriends, babies who are covered in bruises, people who ruin their own lives (and the lives of everyone who loves them) with alcohol and drugs. It just goes on and on and on.

Why, oh WHY would I choose a job where I'm surrounded by these things?

Fairly regularly, I ask myself this very question, but I don't contemplate it for long, because from the moment I chose to be a social worker, I knew I was right where I needed to be. Even if, some days, I feel like I'm learning to ride a bike for the first time.

To be completely honest with you, on my way into the hospital tonight, I was afraid I might get the doodies. I was so nervous. I've been trained, I've dealt with really complicated patients before, I know what I'm doing, but I still get scared. I just never know what to expect.

Well, I didn't crap my pants (I always try to find the positive side of things...). I did just fine, but I think it's been a while since I've said so many prayers in one day.

So, about 6 hours later, a lady who was ready to end it all is probably still ready to end it all, but at least she's safe for the time being. She's getting help. And I'm praying that she will accept it and that she'll realize she needs to help herself.

This week, my tribute is to my patients - everyone from the 87-year-olds who trip over rugs in the bathroom, fracture their hips and need rehab, to the 16-year-olds who are high on meth and need a whole different kind of rehab.

You are the reason I have a job. Believe it or not, you're the reason I have a job that I LOVE. Many of you piss me off to no end, and I have no patience for you.

Then, there are others of you that I can only have compassion for, that I can only hope the very best for you, those of you who I truly, truly hope will someday be okay...

A Jay and Deb Production.

Because we all need a healthy dose of sarcasm

I'm all about sarcasm.

Have you noticed some of my sidebar graphics? The ones about how I love housework so much?

They're from the lovely and talented Anne Taintor. Her products use vintage pictures to convey hilarious messages. These are some of my favorites.





Don't you just love them? You can buy all sorts of Taintor goodies here, including everything from file folders, emery boards, magnets, bags, and notepads.

This is just one of the places I venture off to online for a little humor when I need it.

So, go on now. Go get your laugh on.


A Jay and Deb Production.

All the validation I need

I triumphed over my technical difficulties, so I have a video for you of my little cheerleader. I thought it was appropriate for Tuesday's Tribute. So, this week I'm paying tribute to my clapping genius of a child. Clap on, Kaylee. CLAP. ON.

Be sure to go check out Jay and Deb for more Tuesday's Tribute posts from other bloggers.

Let's hear it for the girls!

This post is a part of a weekly feature called Tuesday's Tribute - the one time each week that Jay and Deb challenge bloggers to write about something other than ourselves, to shine the light elsewhere for a change. If you only have the time to check out one other Tuesday's Tribute this week, make sure it's Jay's because he's up to something pretty cool over on his blog. Thanks for stopping by, and enjoy!


A Jay and Deb Production.

This week my tribute is to "The Girls."

I won't beat around the bush. "The Girls" is pretty much just code talk for my boobs.

Now, I know Tuesday's Tribute is all about paying tribute to someone/something other than yourself, so I'm clearly stating here that this is a tribute to my boobs (oh my gosh, this is making me laugh just typing it...). BUT, you need to understand that we've been through a lot together, so in order for you to fully comprehend why they're worthy of their very own tribute, I need to share our journey with you.

After breast feeding for 9 months, "The Girls" are finally mine again, and I've got a few things weighing on my mind about the whole issue of being done.

You must understand that I am a very determined and goal-oriented woman. So, before Kaylee was even born, I had my mind set on breast feeding her for 12 months. No ifs, ands, or buts. It's what the experts recommended, so doggonnit, that's what I was going to do for my baby.

THAT was when I was just a silly little pregnant lady who didn't know squat about what to expect when it came to breastfeeding. I was naively ignorant and terribly optimistic.

Call me crazy, but I thought this is how it would go down: I would manage to make it through the labor and delivery of my child, and as soon as she was born, they'd put her on my belly, I'd get to cuddle her, and she would instinctively latch on with no problems. That's what the 80 bazillion books I read about told me should happen. If there were problems (highly doubtful), I'd just have the nurse help me and that would be that. We'd return home after 24 hours in the hospital, I'd nurse her every 2-3 hours, and life would be fine and dandy.

Ha ha ha ha ha. Silly little pregnant woman.

Here's how it actually went down...

We DID make it through the labor and delivery just fine. She didn't latch on at first, and to be honest, I wasn't too worried initially. It happens. So what, right? Well, it wasn't just a one-time deal. She wouldn't latch. Period. I felt like a complete and utter failure. I couldn't breastfeed my own baby. Of course I knew it wasn't my fault, but I still blamed myself. It was something I'd thought about and hoped for the past 9 months. I cried. and cried. and cried.

Every 2 to 3 hours we'd attempt to get her to latch for 15 minutes, and when it didn't work, we resorted to "finger feeding" Kaylee. It involves using syringes and tiny little tubes to feed the baby. You line up the end of the tube with the tip of your finger and then slowly push the milk/formula out of the syringe. It's supposed to help babies develop a stronger sucking reflex. Here's a visual for you because it's pretty hard to picture otherwise. Please excuse my puffy and shiny 2-week postpartum face.


We had a routine labor and delivery, so I could have gone home after 24 hours, but since she wasn't nursing, it was recommended that we stay 48 hours to get extra support and help with it before we went home.

We should have just gone home. All it did was exhaust me and frustrate me more. God bless all the people who tried to help us. At times, there were 3 nurses in there at once. They were so patient with me and wanted to help us make it work so badly. But, it just. didn't. work.

I began to develop a really good relationship with the lactation consultant, and by the time we were discharged home, I had decided that I would pump for Kaylee until she was able to latch, however long it took.

So, after 48 hours, we went home. Thus began my love/hate relationship with pumping.

Meet Mr. Medelapumpinstyleadvanced (I figured we spent enough time together that he was worthy of having a "Mr." put in front of his name) - my 5th appendage for the first two months of Kaylee's life.

Now, don't get all crazy and go buy one for yourself just for the sake of having a little extra fun. I mean, I know that this picture makes you want to hook it up to your boobs and have a grand ol' time just pumpin' away. Trust me. It frickin' SUCKS to be hooked up to it and it's not fun. Really. You will literally feel like a dairy cow. Plus, if you want to spend $300 to have fun, figure out a better way to spend your money (but if you will need a pump, I'm telling you this one is the best there is).

At first, I loved Mr. M. He made it possible for my baby to get breast milk. But, it wasn't long and I started to despise this damn machine.

We had a date every 3 hours around the clock for 2 months solid. I began to dread it. And I began to have problems.

When you pump all the friggin' time, it's not as effective as having a baby nurse, so it can cause a host of problems. Not only that, but I was producing enough milk to literally feed two babies - which I was actually doing (Go check out this website - it's amazing. Women who have a surplus milk supply can donate their extra milk to premature babies who need all the extra immunities and goodies that are only found in breast milk). With the pumping and the oversupply combined, I got chronic clogged milk ducts and even a damn boob infection. Can you believe that? And I didn't think I'd have any issues whatsoever.

So, in addition to being attached to that effing pump for what felt like 24 hours a day, I was now doing warm compresses and a host of other remedies to make the clogged ducts go away. At one point I remember thinking the pain was worse than contractions (I'm pretty sure I was just overreacting because contractions are indescribably painful).

By now you're probably wondering why the hell I didn't just give her formula. I don't know. I really don't know. It would have made my life a lot easier.

In addition to Mr. M. I had accumulated what my lactation consultant termed lots of "paraphernalia" - product upon product to help Kaylee latch on. Some stuff helped - sometimes. But mostly, it didn't work. And because I love torturing myself, I was still 100% committed to pumping for her.

We met with the lactation consultant every week and checked Kaylee's weight 1-2 times/week. She was steadily gaining, so that made me feel good. I knew that what I was providing her with was making her itsy bitsy little self grow big and strong. But I was still really, really sad about not being able to nurse her. The lactation consultant told me that babies usually latch on by 8 weeks. That seemed like an eternity.

But, wouldn't you know. My sweet little girl decided on the day she turned 8 weeks old that it was high time she latched, and we never had an issue with it from that day forward. I was absolutely thrilled.

I went back to work after 3 months, and I pumped at work. It worked out quite nicely. I used my two daily 15 minute breaks to go pump, and I'd read a book or a magazine, or doze off. It was a nice, quiet part of my day that I looked forward to. (By the way - here's my shameless plug for the The Milk Memos: How Real Moms Learned to Mix Business with Babies - and How You Can, Too. It's a phenomenal book written by 2 IBM employees who pumped at work. If you are going to pump at work or know someone who is, this book is an absolute MUST). Eventually, though - I got sick of it. Real sick of it. So, one day I just quit pumping. It was fabulous!

I continued to nurse Kaylee while I was at home, and I pumped a bit at home so she could still get milk while she was at the babysitter's, but eventually the supply wasn't keeping up with the demand, and I had to supplement with formula.

I have nothing at all against formula, but we had been on such an emotional roller coaster with the breast feeding that I really, really, really struggled with having to supplement her with formula. I think it brought those feelings of failure/Mommy guilt right back. I felt like I was failing to provide enough for my baby.

Thankfully, I got over that. I realized it just wasn't worth the stress, and Kaylee didn't give a rip what she ate.

Then, we hit another fork in our nursing road. Kaylee got a tooth. And then another tooth. Click here for a humorous little ditty about our first biting incident.

Along with the occasional bite, we were starting to battle what I called boob-induced ADD. Every time I'd sit down to nurse her, she'd latch on and then pop off and look at the light on the ceiling and start to say, "Ooooh! Oooooh! Oooooh!" just as if I'd presented her with her very own pony. But then she'd latch back on. Approximately 6.3 seconds later she would notice the window blinds and decided they looked fun to bat at.

It was getting to be a bit much. You've heard the phrase, "Shit or get off the pot," right? In my head I kept thinking, "Eat or get off the boob!"

So, when I realized how frustrated I was getting 95% of the time I was nursing her, I realized it was time to be done. My goal of 12 months had just gotten tossed out the window, and that was okay.

To be honest, I'm feeling really good about my decision, and sometimes I question whether or not that's how I *should* feel or not. I always thought I'd be really sad about being done. But, I'm not. I'm pretty happy to have my boobs back. Even if they don't feel like my boobs. Let's just say I'll definitely be trading my nursing bra in for a push-up bra...Just doesn't seem fair...after all I did with these boobs they go from making me look like Pamela Anderson to looking like a 4th grader. Well, SHIT. Shit, shit, shit. What can you do? Now I know why some women get boob jobs after they have babies. And I no longer judge them.

So, boobs. I salute you. You have done an incredible job. You've provided for two sweet babies and helped them grow, you've survived an uncanny amount of time with the pump, and you persevered through terrible, horrible, no good, very bad clogs and infections, and you never leaked on me in public. You are my heroes. You deserve a good pick-me-up, and a much-needed rest. So, soon and very soon we will go on an excursion to Victoria's Secret (a.k.a. Wal-Mart because that's what I can afford - but you DESERVE to go to Vicky's Place...) to get you a new wardrobe since you've downsized. Enjoy that rest while it lasts because I'll be calling on you again in a few years. I hope you're up to the task. And if you're not, then screw you. I'll just buy formula.

I'll take a twisty-doo and a sprinkshmitz, please

It's time again for Tuesday's Tribute, which I've come to look forward to each week, just as I look forward to Mama Kat's Thursday Writer's Workshop. The point of Tuesday's Tribute is to focus on someone or something other than yourself. I know, it's crazy, and it's really difficult and sometimes painful to not talk about myself on my blog, but I enjoy a good challenge, so that's why I participate.

So, for the past three weeks, I've written my Tuesday's Tributes about Jen, my brother, and the unforgettable Dr. K. All people I have actually MET. So, it's time to switch things up a bit.

This week, I'd like to introduce you to Brian Regan - someone I've never met, and also one of my favorite funny guys.

Maybe you already know about him and think he's hilarious. If not, then hopefully you'll get a good laugh and become a fan today. Humor is the meat and potatoes of my blog, so today, you'll get a little humor from someone other than me.

This is the kind of stuff he says...

On being stupid...

" I would have been a lot better off if I’d studied more when I was growing up, y’know. But you know where it all went wrong was the day they started the spelling bee. Because up until that day I was an idiot, but nobody else knew."

On saying stupid things...

"You know when you say something but you want to change in the middle? Like one time I was about to say 'take care' but changed in the middle to 'good luck' so it sounded like TAKE LUCK.. If you have any luck take care of it. Take luck you now. SHUT UP!"

On first class...

"So when you do get on, the first class people are already sitting there; they're all sprawled out on their big thrones. "Bring me the head of a pig! And a goblet of something cool and refreshing! Anyone have a fiddle? Amuse me."

The Donut Lady is one of my favorite Brian Regan routines, so I'm hoping it gives you a chuckle.



Oh, and one more thing. Summer over at Le Musings of Moi is doing a sweet giveaway as a thank you to her blog followers. You definitely need to head on over and check her out.


A Jay and Deb Production.

My Tribute to Dr. K

Ahhhh, the unforgettable Dr. K. The man I will remember the rest of my life with a fondness that cannot be put into words.

My lifesaver.

My deliverer.

My hero.

Approximately 8.5 months ago this amazing and wonderful doctor waltzed into my labor room wearing shorts, tennis shoes and a button up shirt. My husband about knocked him through the wall, thinking some strange man busted in during a rather inopportune, not to mention private time.

But then, he realized that I would knock him through a wall if he so much as laid a hand on this fabulous man that I had been waiting for and dreaming about for 9 long months.

I remember Dr. K telling me it would be about 10 minutes before I felt any relief from this magic thing they call an epidural.

He lied.

The relief was instant.

I wholeheartedly uttered the words, "I love you."

He replied rather matter-of-factly... "Yeah, I get that a lot."

I bet you do, you freakin' awesome stinkin' doctor!

Thank you for responding to my request for drugs in 15 minutes or less. You are a very, very smart man, and I assure you that I will never, ever forget you. E-V-E-R.


Head on over to Jay's and Deb's blogs for more Tuesday's Tribute posts from other bloggers.

Tuesday's Tribute - Supermom and Photographer Extraordinaire

Meet Jen.
















She's a wife, a mom to 4 (and one on the way!), an incredible photographer, a fellow blogger, and truly one of the sweetest, funniest, and most "real" people I've ever met.

I met Jen a few years back, and to my dismay, she and her family moved to Utah not long after we met, so we didn't get to hang out as much as I wish we could have. I tried to read her family blog during that time, and I loved looking at her photography blog, too, wishing that she would be somewhere nearby when I had my first child so she could take our first family portraits.

Her photography skills are to die for. She's absolutely amazing, and she's totally self-taught. You better clear a spot on the floor for your jaw when it drops after seeing her mad skills. Click here to see for yourself. If you are in Utah, you really need to look her up. I'm not kidding. You seriously need to look her up.

This lady wears many hats, but she wears them so well. She's not one of those people that always plasters a smile on her face and acts like everything is perfect all the time. Her blog is candid and very eloquently written. Her humor shines through, as well as her dedication to her faith and her family.

She's got an incredibly generous and selfless spirit, and I really wish she lived closer to me so we could overindulge on chocolate together and let our kids run wild while we sit and chat, oblivious to it all. And, I would also pick her brain all the live long day about how she does what she does because she truly is an amazing woman.

Jen, you rock, and I am so lucky to call you my friend.

This post is part of a new feature over at Halftime Lessons called Tuesday's Tribute.


Yet Another Jay and Deb Production.