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Sophie la Girafe

Sophie the Giraffe, or as it is known in its country of origin, Sophie la Girafe, has been an excellent tool for me as a new mother.  This little French rubber piece of shit has taught me that there will be many times I spend a ridiculous amount of money on something for my child that she will have no damn interest in.

This fucking toy is ranked pretty much number 1 in toys for babies.  Every baby loves her.  The Wall Street Journal wrote an article on this teething toy. She is the Queen B of baby toys.  There is some wild statistic out there that there are more Sophie’s sold than babies born.  And here’s the kicker.  Sophie costs $24.99.  WHAT.  At first, I didn’t register for Sophie or keep it on my radar at all.  Then I saw my neighbor’s son with Sophie, and he loved her.  I heard from countless people how Sophie was a game changer.  I needed to get my hands on this French giraffe ASAP.  This is how I justified spending $25 on a fucking teething toy, because it is the holy grail of teething toys.  EVERYONE LOVES SOPHIE.  So I went to Babies R Us and used one of my many gift cards to purchase the most expensive teether in the free world.  I was SO excited to take her out of the box, wash her down and hand her to Charlotte.  I had visions of Charlotte grasping her, working on her fine motor skills, putting her into her mouth and gnawing away.  Sophie was here to become her best friend.  Sophie was here to save the day.

Charlotte does not give ONE SINGLE FUCK about Sophie.  I don’t even think she picked her up the first time I handed her the damn thing.  I’m pretty sure she flicked it away with her hand and completely ignored it.  I chalked it up to Charlotte being shy.  It was like she was on a first date with the thing that would change her little baby life.  She was just waiting for the right time to embrace Sophie and get to know her.  We’ve now had Sophie for 4 fucking weeks and she STILL doesn’t care.  I’ve put the giraffe into her hands myself, she knocks it away.  I’ve stuck the legs and head into her mouth like I’ve seen all the Sophie loving babies do, she ignores me.  So the reality hit me.  I spent $24.99 on a fucking RUBBER GIRAFFE.  Pre-mom me would have scoffed at this.  “Oh, no” I’d say.  “I’d never spend that kind of money on a silly toy.”  Well, I did.  I spent that much money on a toy that every baby in the fucking world loves, except my child.  I bet it won’t be the last time either.  Charlotte prefers to shove her hands into her mouth, and that shit is free.

I Like to Pump it Pump it, (NOT)

The worst part about being a working mom right now is the pumping.  Oh, how I hate the pumping.  Three times a day, like clockwork, I have to take off my top (or, if it’s a dress I strip down to my underwear, so that’s great), hook on a strapless bra that has legit holes over my nipples, and attach myself to a machine that sucks the milk out of me for 15-20 minutes.  The sound of the machine haunts my dreams.  Woosha, woosha, drip, drip, drip.  I have pumping anxiety where I am petrified I won’t produce enough, so now I even take herbal supplements that make my pee smell like maple syrup.  Fenugreek, what up!  Pumping is a straight up nightmare.  I can’t even imagine having to do it in a job that wouldn’t give me the privacy or the convenience of doing this three times a day.  How on earth do waitresses pump?  I mean it takes 10 fucking minutes just to set up all the damn parts and another 10 minutes to dismantle the thing and clean it.  It’s exhausting!  And HEAVEN FORBID I spill a single droplet of milk.  I have never been so protective over liquid in my life.  The entire train ride home consists of me obsessively checking the cooler to make sure the lids are on correctly so nothing is spilling.  I think if a bottle spilled on the way home I would drop to my knees on the F train and cry.  NO DROP LEFT BEHIND.

I know this is the part where some moms decide to supplement with formula, and I totally understand why.  I don’t judge you at all, I never would.  For me, because I am a stubborn mule more than anything, I am determined to make this work.  I love nursing my daughter too much to let the annoyance of the pump get in the way of that.  When I get home and she smiles at me and nuzzles into my chest is just the greatest feeling in the world.  After a busy day of working and commuting, just laying there with her is so relaxing and worth it, which is why I become Bessie the cow hooked up to the machine on a daily basis.  And the fact that I’m back in my pre pregnancy jeans thanks to nursing obviously doesn’t hurt either.

I Miss Sleep

I’ve hit the point in new motherhood where I am questioning whether or not I am doing ANYTHING right.  My lovely child just doesn’t sleep at night like she used to.  I can’t even remember when the problems started, so I don’t know if it’s the dreaded 4 month sleep regression that Google shoves in my face, the fact that I’ve gone back to work, or if I’ve somehow managed to fuck her up and this is my life now.  I remember when she used to sleep from 8-4.  WHY OH WHY WON’T YOU DO THIS CHARLOTTE?!  She’s starting to outgrow the rock and play thing she’s been sleeping in, she screamed her damn head off when I tried to let her sleep in the pack and play in our room, and last night when I attempted her bedtime routine with the crib she would fall asleep, wake up, fall asleep, wake up, until I finally gave up and had her asleep after nursing her around 9 PM, way too late for a baby to be going to sleep.  She then proceeded to wake up MULTIPLE times whining/crying.  Luckily, I rolled over and stuck the pacifier in her mouth every time, and I didn’t have to take her out to feed her until 3 AM, but WHAT. THE. FUCK.  I’m so tired.  I don’t know how to get her to sleep better.  I don’t know where to put her to sleep.  I don’t know anything.  I mean I’m at the point where I may as well just lay her on the floor because nothing I’m doing is working anyway.  Like in the game The Sims, when you didn’t know what to do with the baby you just had to have so you just placed it on the floor and went about your business.  I’m going to just place her on the floor and go about my business.

Can any of you out there give me some advice?  Like, when the hell do I even attempt the crib again?  How did you get your children to sleep?  Will anything EVER GET EASIER?!  Someone just tell me what to do so I don’t have to feel like such a failing mess.  Send help.  And vodka.

Perhaps I’m a Little Nuts

I was worried about not finding the time or energy to exercise once I came back to work, and even though it’s only been three days, I WAS RIGHT.  The past two nights Charlotte has been awake as if she’s a newborn again, and I am exhausted.  HOWEVER, my commute is making up for the lack of Jillian Michaels DVD’s in a fantastic way.  You see, I am so excited to get home to her at night, that I legitimately sprint through my evening commute.  I park my car on the street in Forest Hills and then walk to the subway, where I take two express trains to get to work.  I leisurely stroll for the morning commute.  The evening is a different story.  I run out of the building, I hop on the first train and then I TEAR ASS to the second train.  Once I’m off that train I run the entire way to my car.  It took me 14 minutes to walk from my car to the train yesterday morning.  Coming home?  It took me 8.  I was sweaty and near fainting, but I got home at 5:11!  WIN.

Now here is where I think I’ve lost my damn mind.  When I’m at work I am distracted and fine.  I am relishing the fact that I can wear nice necklaces that would otherwise be a weapon to Charlotte’s face, and the fact that I can eat a hot breakfast and lunch.  Then I get home and for some reason I become super emotional.  Last night I ripped my dress off after the evening sprint, so here I am standing in my bra and underwear clutching onto my smiling baby.  But the kicker is that this song my mom found has now become my theme song for when I arrive home:

My Mommy Comes Back

I can’t stop singing it.  So here I am, wearing no clothes, holding my baby and singing through tears MY MOMMY COMES BACK, SHE ALWAYS COMES BACK, over and over again.  Perhaps I am a little nuts.

Anyway, TGIF!!!!!!!!!!!!

Too much?

Is it wrong that I want to have photos like this taken for Charlotte’s christening?  Hats and all?  I’m pretty sure I could rock a Philip Treacy as good as any royal.


Day One

I’m sitting at my desk at work as I type this.  I’ve been out of the house since 6:45 AM on very little sleep (because I was an anxious and neurotic mess, not because Charlotte was up at all hours).  Yesterday I was a wreck.  Yesterday I cried so many tears and had so many fears about coming back to work today.  This morning as I kissed my baby girl goodbye while she slept I cried even more.  Then I left the house and began a commute I’ve done hundreds of times.  And now?  Now I’m fine.  It’s strange how fine I am.  Part of me now worries and feels guilty about being fine.  I miss my baby and am continuously thinking about her, of course, but I feel like I never left my job.  I started organizing, I caught up with coworkers, I answered the phones, I opened the mail.  I did all of this and Charlotte is at home with her daddy, smiling and being the happy girl she was yesterday when I was home with her.  I’m not naive enough to think that every day will be like this.  I know to take it one day at a time.  I know that tomorrow could be worse than today, or maybe even better.  But the fact that right now, in this moment, I am perfectly okay makes me feel like I can do this for the long haul.  I know I have no choice, but I feel like instead of feeling like a prisoner because I have to work, that maybe this will make me a better me and a better mom.  I already pumped once and it wasn’t a disaster.  I had privacy, I video chatted with Eric and Charlotte, I ate my breakfast without it getting cold and having to reheat it.  I may have a headache and counting down the hours until I can leave at 4 PM, but I’m not staring at my screen holding back tears.  I feel a lot stronger than I did yesterday, and this to me, is a win.

The cafeteria lady also told me how skinny I looked and gave me my coffee for free, so you know, that may have helped a bit.

Thank you to everyone who reads these posts.  To all of you that take the time to comment and encourage me.  Mothers are the most beautiful souls on the planet.  Your words and thoughts mean more to me than you’ll ever know.  The world is a better and easier place when we build each other up instead of tearing each other down.  Thank you for building me up.

Shots, shots, shots .. Everybody!! 

I used to listen to the song “Shots” by LMFAO and totally be a part of that world.  “Patron on the rocks everybody’s doing shots!”  I was wonderful with tequila shots. Salt and lime please!  Now?  Shots only bring me anxiety. Not the tequila sort either. The kind my poor child needs every two months and received yesterday.
I hate needles to begin with so I can’t handle my daughter getting them jabbed into her chunky thighs.  I mean I know they’re necessary because I don’t really want Charlie walking around with a case of polio or HepB, but can’t we figure out a way to vaccinate babies without sharp objects?  At two months she got 3 needles, at 4 months she  thankfully only needed two. This time I was prepared and medicated her before we went to the doctor. I’m sure there are people out there who are astonished at my behavior, but I have a nice big glass of shut the hell up waiting for you right here.  Eric comes with me to hold her arms down because I literally cannot handle it. I sit in the corner with my bra open waiting to feed her after the screaming. She did that scream where no sound comes out for a few seconds before the wail of all wails erupts from her tiny lungs. I hate it!!!  However, 20 minutes after the needles she passed out for TWO HOURS and then woke up happy as a clam. THEN she went to sleep at 7 pm and slept until 7:30 this morning with only one wake up, so there’s that.  Am I a bad mom for enjoying that side effect of the vaccines?  Don’t answer that. 
My little boobala weighs 14.7 pounds and is 25 inches long. She’s going to be tall like her daddy. Her head is also small as fuck so she’s like her daddy in that respect too. No complaints here! That tiny head didn’t destroy my lady bits nearly half as bad as a bigger head would have.  Let’s do a shot to small baby heads! 

Dear Teething, You Suck

While it may look weird, I honestly think it would be easier if babies were just born with all of their teeth. If this were the case, there would be no teething pain for baby or for mommy. As I type this, I’m wearing Charlotte as she finally goes back to sleep, after the both of us have basically been awake since 4:30 AM because of her teething pain. It’s been going on for a little while now, but this is the first time it’s actually woken her up from sleep. She refused to nurse, probably because the sucking doesn’t help the pain, and screamed until I was able to give her some medicine, but then I had to hold her and rock her because she refused to relax any other way. Part of me was dying to get back into bed, but another part of me looked at her face as she curled against my body and finally calmed down against my chest that I realized she will only be like this for a little while, and what’s some exhaustion in comparison to comforting your baby?  She woke up again happy as a clam, and then when she began to gnaw and get restless again I decided to put her in her baby wrap and do squats in front of the TV. Might as well get some exercise in while this goes on, right?  Except now I’m afraid to take her out of the baby wrap in case she wakes up again, and I’m starting to get really hungry. I wish I could have a giant plate of pancakes from IHOP, but I can’t because they’re made with milk and butter and I still can’t have that. I’d also like to have an omelette with cheddar, mozzarella and bacon with sour cream on the side. I think I’m a little delirious. We’ve gone from teething problems to omelette concoctions I can’t consume. Fucking teething. 

How To Work Out With a Baby 

Step One: Baby has fallen asleep, slowly put her down and insert Jillian Michaels DVD

Step Two: Pump yourself up for a good workout. These last 5 pounds of baby weight shall be vanquished!

Step Three: Begin the warm up. You are swinging your arms with fierce power, you begin the jumping jacks. The eyes of the baby fly open.

Step Four: Finish warm up and begin strength training portion of the DVD. Get on the ground for first push up. Baby wails. 

Step Five: Try to ignore crying. Crying gets louder. WHY ARE YOU CRYING BABY?! Mommy needs to get rid of the stomach pouch you caused!  I don’t want to look like a damn kangaroo!

Step Six: Attempt to pick baby up and do parts of the DVD while holding baby. Begin squatting holding baby instead of holding weights. Baby likes this. Holy shit, she doesn’t cry at all. 

Step Seven: Squatting portion finishes. Baby cries again, so you just ignore the DVD and squat.  Realize this is what the baby likes now and you will be squatting until your legs collapse under you and you die. 

Step Eight: Turn off the DVD, put on The Real Housewives of OC and breastfeed instead. Breastfeeding burns 500 calories a day, right? RIGHT?! 

One Year

A year ago today, almost at this very moment, I found out I was pregnant.  I had a feeling I was pregnant for a few days even though we had just started trying (and by that I mean we had sex literally one time) and I had taken a test a few days earlier but had gotten a negative result, so I went out with coworkers and got very drunk. WHOOPS. June 19, 2014 I woke up for work, took out the tests, peed on one and let it sit on the countertop for the required two minutes. I walked out of the bathroom to get my clothes for work when I heard a buzzing sound. A very loud buzzing sound. I turned on the light in my room and saw a giant flying death beetle zooming around my bedroom ceiling fan.  I did what any normal person would do and shut the bedroom door and laid on the floor. Now, I know I’m known to exaggerate some things but I am NOT exaggerating the size of this fucker. Even Eric will attest to its size because when he came home to kill it he had to break a light bulb in the process!  I wish I still had the text messages I sent to him that morning, full of spelling errors and lots of capitalized letters. How would I get ready for work?  How would I get my iPad?  How in the fuck did I sleep all night with that monster FLYING ABOVE MY FACE?! I still don’t know how it got into my house!  After all of this drama, which included arming myself with a can of hair spray, a towel tied around my head and a military crawl into my room to get the necessary work items, I went back into the bathroom to brush my teeth and put on my makeup. I had completely forgotten about the pregnancy test!  I picked it up and saw that it said “pregnant, 1-2 weeks.”  I sat on the toilet and said holy shit out loud, started laughing uncontrollably, then started crying and debated whether or not to stay home to tell Eric the news or go to work with the biggest secret of my life. I decided to go to work, if only to tell everyone of the bug the size of a rodent in my home, and the entire day went as slow as molasses. I remember Eric even texted me asking if I got my period and I wrote back “WHATEVER IS MEANT TO HAPPEN WILL HAPPEN” and when I got home I shocked the shit out of him too. And then we cleaned the shattered bathroom bulb from the floor. 
And now here we are, one year later. I have an almost 4 month old baby, an imminent 2 weeks and 5 days return to work, a breast pump currently attached to my boobs, and a joy I never thought was possible. What a beautiful life I have. What a beautiful life indeed.