Incommunicado

I've been darn near wholly-absent from the virtual world the last couple of weeks. Let's recap:

• Goose had a fever of 103.9 at 4:00 a.m. one morning. Anyone who knows body temperatures, like a recovering infertile knows body temperatures, knows that a person's body temperature should be at its lowest point in the early morning.
• The Hubster and I played Rock-Paper-Scissors-Lizard-Spock to see who was staying home from work to take him to the doctor.
• Guess who lost won?
• Not ten minutes before we left the house for the doctor's office, our water went out.
• Right after I dealt with a diaper explosion.
  
• Our "neighborhood," and I use that term loosely because we live somewhat off-the-grid, regularly has water main breaks.
• Usually four to six times a year.
  
• Yes, we're somewhat off-the-grid, but we still manage to have public utilities, like city water instead of a well.
• That's why we bought the house. It's the best of both worlds.
  
• The doctor's verdict? Double ear infection. Which is kind of like Mardi Gras and Christmas rolled into one. Except not.
  
• The doctor also did a swab for RSV. Do you know how they do a swab for RSV? They take the world's longest q-tip and snake it up the baby's nose into his brain sinus cavity.
• Babies love it.
  
• We never had RSV at our house before, as Monk had Synagis shots.
  
• Luckily, we still haven't had RSV at our house. Negative!
• While I was rocking/nursing Goose to sleep one evening, the Hubster was supervising Monkeyboy. To use a Bossy-style-ism: where supervising means letting him click "Mark All Read" on the open Bloglines window on my laptop. Goodbye, 89,752* unread posts! I hardly knew ye.
• Monk also decided that his "Sit 'n Spin" was really more of a "Stand 'n Spin." Which became a "Spin 'n Throw-you-face-down-on-the-ceramic-tile." Result: bloody lip and bitten tongue, but no lasting or serious damage. Minor hysteria at no extra charge.
  
• When I have emailed any company's customer service department in the last month, their response has been "Our solution to your problem is to treat you like you're stupid. Not only that, but we also suggest several possible solutions that you mentioned in your email you tried already and they didn't work. However, we clearly did not read your email and are merely trying to give you the brush off, so... your problem? Good luck with that."
• Our ancient dog has been limping which the vet says is either a) a soft tissue injury or b) something deadly. We're waiting to find out.
• Although I fought the good fight, I finally had to start supplementing Goose's daycare bottles with a little formula. My huge freezer stash took a fatal hit during Ski Weekend. I haven't been able to build it back up partly because Goose sleeps all night, which has k-o'd my supply and partly because, like last time, I have come to hate pumping with a white-hot intensity.
  
• In fact, I should be pumping right now, but? Not.
• I am unreasonably disappointed by having to supplement.
• Unreasonable because a) It's less than four ounces a day, b) Uh, I could be pumping right now if it was that big a deal, and c) I should get over myself and my self-absorbed desire for hippie mama bragging rights that at least one of my kids never had a drop of formula (that ship has sailed).
• One of our cats has something going on with the toes on her front driver-side foot. It may be cancer, it may not. Again with the waiting to find out.
• One of our late dogs had to have a toe amputated about five years ago because of toe cancer.
• Is that as freaky to everyone else as it is to me?
• Seriously? Two pets with toe cancer? If that turns out to be true... I just don't know what.
  
• I think I am getting sick now. I have that scratchy throat feeling.
  
• There are now 50 days of school left. The Hubster will be out of town for 20 of them.
• Are you any good at math? Because to me that seems like half.
• No, it doesn't. I'm not that bad at math. I just like hyperbole.
• Except, really? It kind of almost is. Half I mean. Not really so much with the hyperbole.
  
• So, what's new with you? Because I lost like 2,766,543*** unread posts in my feed reader and I feel so out of touch.
  

*An estimate.
**Ironical. I'm a girl who battled oversupply and overactive letdown for the first six months and then dwindling supply and eventual supplementation the last six months with each baby.
***Revised estimate.

Adventures of a Suicidal Nursing Pad

Due to the sometimes exciting and always unpredictable condition of overactive letdown, I wear nursing pads for the duration of the nursing year.

I, of course, have a favorite of each style. For disposable, I prefer Lansinoh. For washable cloth (for breathability at night), Lana Wool. And for general everyday, Lilypadz. Yes, it's a terrible name. (That ersatz Z.) But they're very discreet -- no telltale ring-around-the-you-know -- and they're washable and reusable.

A few weeks ago, as I changed my clothes upon returning from work, I realized I was missing a breastpad. I managed to lose it, I correctly assumed, during my last pumping session at work. The next day, there it was, sitting on top of a pile of papers on my desk, dusty & forlorn. Apparently it was found and rescued by a janitor who, although I hope he didn't know exactly what it was, recognized it as an item of some purpose and usefulness.

I was glad it wasn't gone forever. I have two pairs of Lilypadz; one old style (slightly larger in circumference, slightly thicker & slightly more curved) and one new style (slightly smaller, thinner & flatter). I prefer the old and this was the one I had dropped. I took it home and boiled it (one of the virtues of silicone), putting it back into service.

The very next day, both Lilypadz jumped from my pump case where I place them for safe-keeping while I, in the phrase that has entered my workplace parlance, "do my thing." This time I wasn't able to boil them -- I was stuck at work after all --and choose instead to assume the five-second rule also applies to breast-wear. I settled for merely washing them in very hot water & anti-bacterial soap.

The next week, I not only dropped a Lilypad again, but before I noticed, I managed to run over it with my desk chair, grinding some years-old classroom floor dirt into it in the process. It looked mortally wounded upon initial examination, but again, ministrations with soap and boiling water returned it to its former glory. Amazing.

My Lilypadz seem determined to suffer a death by misadventure. In defiance of this evident deathwish, they seem at the same time to be as immortal as Duncan McLeod. There can be only one two.

What's next for my Lilypadz, of the Clan McPadz?

With only 16 days left, I clinch the title of Mother of the Year

Mothering skill I am proud of: When the baby wakes up at night, I can usually nurse him and sleep at the same time.* The typical result? I sleep, the baby sleeps, the Hubster sleeps through any middle of the night feedings and everyone is happy, especially the person who gets up at four-dark-thirty in the morning to get ready for work.

Mothering low point last night: Due to sick, congested, snoring baby who wakes up frequently through the night because he can't breathe through his nose, I am driven to the point of delirium since I can't sleep through the racket he's making six inches from my face. So while nursing him at 3 a.m for the nth time, I put in a pair of foam earplugs in order to get some sleep.

*With the aid of a carefully assembled pile of seven pillows -- plus my Boppy -- that I call my Nursing Nest™.

Have breast pump, will travel

The school year started for teachers today, so I'm back to work. The Duck is twelve weeks old tomorrow. All day people have asked me if it was hard to leave the kiddos behind. I don't think the answer they were expecting to hear was "I ran screaming from the house, ecstatic to be returning to the land of grown-ups" so I stuck with "Not too hard. Everyone was still asleep when I left this morning."* I love my kids, but I'm ready to talk about something other than Diego and his jaguar.

I'm also ready to feel productive in a way that doesn't include laundry. As contradictory as it sounds, I usually have more time to write while I'm working than when I'm off (probably because I eat lunch in front of my computer and additionally will be pumping at least twice while at work each day). I'm hoping to finish the birth story soon and get it up, as well as finish several other posts I've started but left in draft.

As glad as I am to be back in the working world, I wouldn't be truthful if I didn't say that I feel like I missed out on a summer, since so much of this one was spent inside, doing not much more than holding a baby. The thought that got me through was the mantra, "Next summer will be so much fun."

184 school days to go.

*A couple of weeks ago I counted the number of child-free hours I've had since May 29. The total was fifteen.

Honestly, I read it for the articles

In Play(boy)'s Advisor column last month, there was a question regarding breastfeeding etiquette. A woman wrote regarding her best friend's habit of breastfeeding in front of the writer's boyfriend because, "even though my friend does her best to shield his view," the boyfriend is uncomfortable.

The Advisor's response?

Your boyfriend will have to deal. Seeing a little tit never hurt anyone.

Amen, brother.

Glad to know

I never actually thought about it, but frankly I'm not surprised to find out that Mimi Maternity and Motherhood Maternity stores welcome breastfeeding. All the same, it's nice to see them advertise it. While shopping today, I saw this sign in the dressing room.

Lactivism is universal

A golden retriever in Virginia started nursing an orphaned kitten when the kitten wouldn't drink from a bottle. Mom, is that you? Orphaned kitten nursed by local dog

The dog named Honey hadn’t given birth in 18 months — but an orphaned kitten’s cries made her start producing milk.

This just goes to show, anyone can breastfeed if they're determined enough to do it.