November 12, 2011 5:44 pm

Milk Duds

This photo here is of wooly inserts that snap into a pair of Crocs. I believe the wooly model is called “Mammoths”. Embarrassing, awful Crocs, that no one cares to admit they own.  Mine are pink with leopard spots, as if that’s an excuse.  I always wore Pete’s pairs around the house but they are too big and I have a tripping problem, so when I was pregnant and sore and needed a nice cushion on the hardwood, I invested in my own pink pair.

I wore these probably every minute of every day once Lucy was born.  I was in so much physical pain, and it was cold, and I was getting up countless times every night and shuffling out to the living room to feed her. We had major feeding problems, mostly the latch.  So I would sit down first and hook up to the milk machine and pump, to get things flowing.  Like opening a spigot, so I could just snap the baby on there and she would be good to go.  I would pump the second one to fill a bottle for syringe feedings later.  Staying hooked up to a milk machine requires sitting perfectly still and holding the udders at just the right angle.  Otherwise you lose suction and they fall off and things start to spray and spill. This happens when you are losing consciousness and your wrists are locked with arthritis.

Eventually I am shuffling through the dark again, chest fully exposed and raw like a steak. Too painful to close the shirt. Things are dripping.  Of course, it is exactly body temperature so I don’t really feel it. It might trickle down to the underboob and down the stomach.  It gets soaked up by…something. Whatever is around and is absorbent. I do remember often seeing dried droplets on the wood floors.

So when summer came  I put the wooly Mammoths away in the closet because they were too warm.  Went back to Pete’s regular Crocs. Now it’s cold again and I pulled them out.  Thought it would be a good idea to remove the wooly liners and wash them before starting another cold season.  When I pulled them out I saw these dots on them, along the tops where the air holes are in the shoes.  I looked closer and saw they are white. What the hell?  Is that dried milk?  Awwww.  A nostalgic, sad moment.  I was in such a zombie state back then, I had no idea my milk was actually pouring off my body and falling onto my shoes, soaking through the holes.

I hesitated throwing them in the wash because I didn’t want to let go of that little piece of tangible history.  So my go-to solution when I can’t let go, I take a photo and freeze time.  Is it gross and TMI to post dried breastmilk here? Of course it is. But I don’t care.

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November 2, 2011 10:16 pm

Open Books

My go-to used bookstore.  This is where I perused the whole time I was pregnant, scouring the shelves for the many, many books I wanted to read, but which were unavailable at the library or cost too much on Am@zon. I would scan every title in the parenting/pregnancy section, even though it meant I had to sit on the floor in an unladylike way, and then I could barely get up.

I took Lucy with me to get my eyebrows done and the bookstore is right next door.  It was the first time I was able to take her since she can crawl and look at the books. So I let her loose in the children’s section, which is really nicely designed, like a big clubhouse with a padded floor and pillows and beanbag chairs. It was one of those moments as a parent where you see your dreams materialize in front of you.  Seeing her excited to be around books and eagerly reaching for the shelves, that was a “wow” moment. My baby likes books?  Likes to look at books, and hold books, and listen to them being read?  And maybe one day she will love to read books? Wow. I am humbled with gratitude. And looking forward to many future visits to bookstores and libraries.

This photo of the children’s area by Kara Cochran, from Flickr:

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October 31, 2011 8:08 pm

Four Treats

Halloween Day, and a first time trick-or-treating for one of us.  We went to Roscoe Village, where all the *ahem* “rich, white” people live.  Mainly because that is where Kristin lives, and she threw a kiddie Halloween party with group trick-or-treating afterwards.  I kind of insisted suggested that we all dress up again, because after all, it is a “family costume”, right?  What is a baby reptile without context?  Nothing! Just a little lizard whom people assume is a boy.  We got to see all the big girls in their costumes and then we were off to walk around the neighborhood.  There were tons of families out and most houses were decorated. This is not how all Chicago neighborhoods look on Halloween, but Roscoe Village is kind of the suburbs within the city, as far as it being full of families.

We walked a block over to visit our friend Mark and while we were walking down the street a tree branch ripped my wig off. And I was standing there like Mommie Dearest with a wig cap on, for all the neighbors and kids to see. Then Pete said, “Son, you have a panty on yo head!” Classic! (Quote from Raising Arizona…his fave movie…not mine).  Having my wig get ripped off while I was walking down the street…I can’t even explain how funny I found that to be. That was one of those Lucille Ball moments you wish was captured on video.  In the end, Lucy ended up with four pieces of candy, only because people actively dropped them in her bucket.  I didn’t have the gumption to go up to people’s doors and receive candy on her toothless behalf!

 

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October 30, 2011 11:52 pm

My Fave-Ritt Thing

Dress up, dress down, COSTUMES, alter egos, disguise, and Hall-o-ween.  LOVE. When I had more time, I would find multiple parties and events over a span of 2-3 days and acquire 2 or more costumes to wear out.  I live for that role I can put on, second only to the photograph that seals it in history.  Then to make the group costume plans with friends, my husband, and now the child. We discussed many options, all of which have fled my memory, so I guess they weren’t all that good. At some point we talked about a continuation of last year’s reptilian lizard baby, and that morphed into the idea of the 1950s Twilight Zone era of alien abductions/ impregnation/ anal probe hysteria.  So I became the clueless house wife whose husband is secretly an alien and we had a reptilian baby. It’s not easy to dress an infant as an alien reptile, certainly no makeup or  prosthetics.  Best I could do was find an alligator costume.  Searching on “lizard” brings up Dizney-esque wide-eyed cutie geckos, and that wasn’t going to work. For Pete and I, a fedora, some cat-eye glasses for me, and a little WIG shopping.  Lucy cried when she saw me in a wig, so we had to do some practice runs around the house to get her acclimated to our disguises. That didn’t really work, as you will see from the outtakes, where she is crying in nearly every one of them.


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