Baby on the go

I feel like it has been a big few days for Mr. Meh. First of all, I got to spend 10 days with him -- Thanksgiving week and then this week that I took off from work. Last time I spent a week with him was back in August when was six months old.

On days I work I only get to see him in the morning before work. He's asleep by the time I return. He used to go to bed at 7:30 which gradually became 7 and then inched over to 6:30. And then the time changed. So now, he goes to bed at 5:30. Nobody told him the time changed. Today, I kept him away until 5:40. I'm trying to push back his sleep time, but it's cruel to keep up a little sleepy baby.

He's pure sugar.

Food
He's been eating pureed solids since he was 6 months old. He loves his food -- he's a big eater, especially crazy about apples and avocados. This week I started introducing finger foods -- teething crackers and some tofu. And eating has just achieved a new level of messiness which I've been fearing all along. It's sticky, messy babies. And I don't do sticky and messy. It grosses me out.

There is no away around it -- the food ends up all over his hands, face, outfit, high chair, floor and then he drops it on the floor. Luckily, Mariposa stands by ready to scoop it up. Today, I got made at her because she grabbed a cracker from his hand. He was confused at what happened.

Since I'm also trying to introduce the sippy cup, he ends up spilling the water all over himself.

The trick it so give him this messy food at his dinner time at 4 pm. By then he's all dirty from crawling around, covered in Mariposa hair. A bit of food and water won't hurt him any more. And bath time is only an hour away.

Crawling
He's a baby on a go, especially super charged at 6 am when he wakes up. For the last week he hasn't been interested in anything else but crawling. Of all the things he could crawl toward (like his toys), he always hones in the whatever wires he can see and make a bee line for them. He couldn't care less about his toys, unless I play with them. Then he shows interest for a split second before moving on to something else. I've given up on being grossed out about him cralwing on the floor. In another words, my cleanliness standards have just sunk to new lows. I have been sweeping the floor every morning and vaccuuming every two days, but with Mariposa it's pointless. She walks by, shakes her fur and it's like no sweeping took place.

It used to be possible to leave him in his play pen. But not any more. I put him in and he protests. And he has quite a will and a mind of his own. And I can't help to wonder where does it all come from. After all he's only 9 months old!
He still crawling the military sweep style. I keep waiting for him to crawl on his hand and knees. But it may not happen, now. For the last few days, every time I try to sit him down he catches himself on his feet, locks his legs in and stands still.

Standing
For the last two weeks, he's been trying to stand up in the tub of all places (yea, the perfect place to slip and hit his head, drown under water, etc....).
For a while now he's been interested in touching the faucet. And these last few days, he's actually managed to stand up in the tub and touch the faucet. Fascinating. Then he peed. Just like Maneken Pis in Brussels. I guess he pees ofteen in the tub, we just don't see it.

He's also been throwing his rubber ducky and submarine Barney out of the tub and then he needs to look over the edge for them. And the last two days, he's looked over the edge and in the process gotten up on his feet.

Then yesterday, I was showing him the inside of the dishwater. (He was right behind me in the kitchen). He crawled over, grabbed the door, held onto it, and stood himself up. It was the first time I saw him do that.
He then promptly crawled over to the drawer in the dinning room to attempt it again. He didn't succeed. He tried it again today, but still no success.
But when I hold him or when I stand him up, he actually stands and holds his own for quite a long time. I even think he took a little step today towards the closet door when we were standing in front of the hallway closet.

I guess it won't be long before he starts walking.

A little walking chatterbox.

Dining Out

We've been taking Mr. Meh out to restaurant for lunch over the last few weekends. So far he's been very good. I guess it's mainly because it's new and there are lots of things to look at and explore. Lots of new sounds, lots of new sites.

On Saturday, two weekends ago, we went to a Cuban restaurant of Rockville Pike. Nothing fancy, but it was his first real time out. (We took him to restaurants a few times when he was very little and not really aware of his surroundings -- ie he was asleep).

That Sunday we went to IHOP. Again, nothing fancy. He first sat in his carseat, where he eventually got fussy. Then we transferred him to a high chair. He loved it. Looking around the things, trying to grab things off the table: napkins, coffee creamers, straws, etc.... It was fun.

Then on Sunday, Mr. Meh went to the city for the first time. We look him to Georgetown. We first went to several stores. (My Mom and I took r. Meh had gone to a mall about 2 months ago. He loved it.) Then we went to Daily Grill, a nice, kind of upscale restaurant. Since it was lunch time and he really hadn't eaten much at home at his 11 am meal, I took a jar of food and a bottle of formula for him. This was my first time doing that.

While we waited for our food, I fed him his jarred turkey and vegetables. He chowed it down with out a problem or a mess (and I had forgotten to take a bit along). He wasn't that keen on the formula later. He just wasn't thirsty. But he was so good at the restaurant -- looking around, grabbing things, such as paper menues, etc. ....and dropping everything on the floor. On Andy's side of the floor.

When we were leaving an older couple who was seated behind us actually commented that they had been admiring our child because he was so good. (At one point I had gotten up to go to the bathroom. So he had turned around to look for me and in the process had started babbling to these people behind us).

Breastfeeding

I've been thinking about this fast approaching end to breastfeeding. Fast approaching because my intention to nurse Mr. Meh until he turn one. Which is in less than 3 months.

I've been really sad thinking about it. It's like a part of my life, my connection with him, my private time with him will be over.

I've also been contemplating when to stop pumping at work. Should I give it up now (since my milk supply really dwindles down by the end of the week), wait until the end of the year, or wait until he turns one.

I think I'll try to go until the end of the year (especially since I'll be home the week after Thanskgiving so that should help things)

But I have to say, now that I've gotten used to giving him formula, I see the advantage of it -- it's very easy. At least now it is. BUt I don't think that formula feeding a newborn would've been easy -- it is still much easier to whip out a boob in the middle of the night for a quick nursing than it would be to prepare a bottle, especially when the baby is crying.

The Milk's Gone

Today, Mr. Meh finished the frozen milk supply. There is nothing left in the freezer. All that's left is the measly 3 oz skinny Medela bottle that I diligenly still pump at work each day.

For some reason, this realization -- that the frozen milk supply -- has been finnished off, makes me sad. I'm not sure why. Maybe because he's growing up. And maybe because I don't see him enough and barely spend any time with him during the week. A lousy one hour, between 6 am and 7 am each morning, when I'm still half asleep. He's in bed by the time I get home from work.

I know I should focus on the positive. He's 9 months and 2 weeks old. I should be proud that I've made it so far (until this week) without any formula. He was exlusively breastfed for 9 months, while I was working. I need to remember that it's a big thing that I've made it so far.

But having to introduce formula now is hard. He's tried it over the weekend, while we were away. (Our first time away from him.) He liked it. Chugged it down without missing a bit. (Earlier last week, we tried giving him the formula in a sippy cup. He didn't like it. We weren't sure whether it was the sippy cup or the formula. Turns out it was the sippy cup. I have to admit it's much larger and cumbersome looking that the Medela bottles he's gotten used to)

I guess it makes me sad -- my little baby growing more independent and needing me less. I'm figuring out these thoughts as I'm writing them. They are surprising me. Who knew I had such a sentimental baby bone in my head.

I guess breastfeeding will eventually have to stop. I guess this week is the beginning of the weaning period. My goal has been to breastfeed him for a year -- if things worked out. (I focused on reaching a three month breastfeeding milestone -- 3, 6, 9 and 12 months.) I'm almost there. Three more months.

I'll continue breastfeeding him at night and in the morning (He's so cute when he nurses. It must be very comforting and yummy for him).

The question is do I continue pumping at work -- to produce this miserly 3 oz bottle. Is it worth it? On one hand, pumping can be quite a nuissance some days, and my nipples have had it. On the other hand, I've made it so far, shouldn't I try to reach a 1 year mark. Does it matter?

I need to give it up at some point, but what is that point?

1st birthday invite

Yesterday, Mr. Meh got his first birthday invite. He's been invited to celebrate his friend's (well actually my friend's baby's) first birthday.

The invitation arrived in the mail and was addressed to Mr. Meh.

It was the most thrilling piece of mail we received that day.

It's so exciting. It probably sounds so corny, but it's so true. And no matter how much we (that is I) are trying to resist becoming the cliche parents (you know, the ones hovering over the baby, being too involved and attentive, that is really annoying to the rest of the world) we already are. And we love it.

Then today, Mr. Meh received a second birthday invitation to celebrate a 3-year old's birthday, on the day before the birthday above.

So exciting!!!!

Pumping on the Turnpike

I set a new personal pumping record over the weekend. We took a weekend trip up to Saratoga, NY to attend a wedding. Our first trip without the baby. (Being without the baby is a totally another story).

I'm still nursing and pumping once a day, so I wasn't going to let this weekend dry up my milk. Instead I pumped -- some 4 times a day. This in turn required to pump --- on the NJ Turnpike.

I first thought I'd give it a trial run while we were resting at a rest stop. So while Andy was out smoking, I pulled out the pump -- the big black, not-so-pump in style, Medela bag and balanced it on my knees. It was hooked up to the battery pack that came with the bag (I had my doubts whether 8 AA batteries required for it to work would really do their job, but they pulled through) I pulled out one boob -- as this was supposed to be a test pump -- and assembled the pump on the brest.

Pumping work. I was sitting in the car, in a parking spot facing the turnpike, away from the rest stop, with one boob trapped in the pumping contraption.

Then Andy returned. And was mortified.

"What are you doing? Put a shirt over you......."

I didn't take into account that the spot we were parked in was facing a nice grassy patch (between the parking lot and the road), where the rest of the people walked their dogs for their restroom break. Right in front of our eyes. Not to mention that the parking lot was full and people were pulling in and out of the spots adjacent to our car.

"How long is this going to take?"

Pumping takes some time...20-30 minutes on average. Andy was getting restless and more mortified with each passing second.

Now that pumping was in full swing I decided that it would be possible to pump as he was driving. So we decided to leave. Except I couldn't pull my seat belt over the pumping contraption. Instead we waited for me to finish with the left boob. The pilot boob.

Amazingly enough, I filled up an entire skinny Medela bottle. On most work days, I barely get a half filled the last few months. Who knew the battery operated pump would work so well. But would it hold for boob number 2?

After the first boob was taken care of, we decided to leave. I had Andy hold the pump parts while I stowed the bottle in the little ice pack carrier and put on the seat belt.

"Yew! You didn't clean this well," he yelled as some milk from the shield and the pump part he was holding dripped on him.

As if it was easy to clean it up. He was sitting right next to me, watching me pump. (Actually, paying more attention to people and dogs walking around us, ensuring I was covered and not making a scene)

"It ran on my hand and down my sleeve."

"You'll survive," I thought.

As we merged back on the turnpike, I adjusted the pumping contraction to my other boob, still balancing the bag on my knees at 70 mph.

The pump worked. Again, surprisingly enougth, I squeezed out an entire skinny Medela bottle.

I got to admit I was quite proud of myself.

On the way back from Saratoga, I was a pro. I pumped both boobs simultaneously, just like I do at work, while we were driving down the turnpike at 70 mph without any problems. I actually timed to start pumping some 30 miles away from the next service area, so we could stop and rest and I could stow the milk in the ice pack container which was in the trunk of the car.

Pumping on the turnpike definitely works, but is it done in style?

And if any passing truckers got a front row gloance at my trapped boobs, who cares.

Milk Belly

Grown up men have a beer belly. Mr. Meh has a milk belly instead. Andy stayed home with him today, which meant he fed him all his meals. And was horrified how much the baby can eat.

1 cup of oatmeal, yogurt and apples for breakfast
1 cup of carrots, peas, sweet potato
1/2 jar of Earth Beth's potato and chicken dinner
1/3 of avocado
and several more things, which escape me at this late hour.

He's so funny when he eats. Sits back in his Ikea high chairs, with arms nicely placed on the sides with one knee bend and protruding above the tray.

And if you take a second too long to spoon feed him food, he starts yelling, "Ah, ah" and banging his hand on the tray. Very demanding.

On a related note, Mr. Meh went to Safeway today. His second trip ever to a grocery store. (When he was about 4 months old, he went to Trader Joe's but he was too little to be aware of what was going on, or at least to little to communicate it back to us). The produce section was a big hit. The fruits and vegetables produced lots of "ahhh."

A month ago, my mom and I took him to the mall. He was enthralled. Even when I took him to the dressing room with me to try clothes on. All was cool as long as he was able to finger the clothes.....


And on a completely unrelated note, I think tonight was the first night that I managed to read the whole newspaper since he was born. True, it was Monday so the Post was extra thin. And of course, the sports section doesn't really count.

Food Groups

Mr. Meh's diet consists of the following food groups:
-white (br milk, yogurt, cottage cheese, potatoes, cereal, apples and pears)
-orange (sweet potatoes, squash, mango, and carrots)
-green (avocado, peas, broccoli, spinach, green beans)

It makes nutrition easy -- just make sure each meal includes one of each, except breakfast, which ends up being purely white)

Giggles

In theory it's easy to blog a few words every night, but in reality when I come home from work and put Mr. Meh to bed, clean the kitchen, etc., I just want to veg in front of TV and imbue my brain with fluff.

Mr. Meh continues to be pure sugar.
He's got two teeth now, and no longer looks like Gargamel.
He likes to bite my nose, which since the arrival of the teeth, has become quite painful, even if it makes him giggle wholeheartedly.

We like to giggle a lot. Lots of things make him giggle:
-bitting my nose
-watching me stick her tongue out and move it side to side
-have me touch his nose and say "ping"
-say bzzzz to his face

And these giggles are the best thing in the world. I'd do anything to get him to giggle more, especially when the giggle morph into a complete cracking up.

It's the best thing in the world!

Adventures in Pureeing, Take 2

Here's the tally of what I've pureed so far:

• Sweet potatoes -- easy to puree



• Carrots -- the trick is to buy real carrots then chop them up into little pieces then boil, then puree -- it still takes forever, but a bit less forever than pureeing baby carrots



• Cauliflower, super easy to puree (but Mr. Meh hated it. The freezer is still full of it)



• Broccoli -- easy to puree



• Peas -- easy to puree but a bit challenging to find frozen peas with no salt added to them. At least that was the case at Whole Foods. The third package I picked up was just peas, nothing added.



• Rutabaga -- hard to puree, gave up, Andy and I ate it instead (It was quite tasty though)



• Spinach -- easy to puree, but all that spinach turns into nothing



• Apples -- for someone who doesn't like the taste or smell or raw apples, peeling these babies bothered me but I persevered. Pureeing was easy. Mr. Meh loved them.

Pureeing as an art form

Who knew that the color of pureed food is so pure and intense. Like having my own crayolas. It was quite an artistic experience. I felt like I should take artsy photos of each individual pureed veggie dollop against a white background and then enlarge and frame for some cool photos.

Carrots are an intense orange. Sweet potatoes also organge but a bit more muted. Peas are bright, bright green. Spinach is very dark green, and broccoli are mid-green with some added white, making it quite mute. Apples are kind of light and not memorable. And cauliflower is of course a pure white.

It was bound to happen

About a week ago, Andy called me at work sounding rather composed.

He had put Mr. Meh on the web and went to pee when he heard a thump. Mr. Meh had rolled off the bed onto the carpet. Apparently he didn't cry or seemed upset. He proceeded to play and laugh as he usually does.

We don't think Andy damaged the baby. I'm just glad that it wasn't me to whom this happened because I'd be freaking out. I'm already distraught at the fact that when he was two weeks old that I dropped my cell phone on his head while he was nursing, and then when he was 5+ months old I sat him down and let him topple over onto his face (he was sitting on the carpet, but it was a rather thin carpet on hardwood floors). And once he fell over backwards onto his back while he was sitting down on thick basement carpet.

Later I shared the falling off the bed story with other moms of young children. Apparently it's like a rite of passage. Everyone has a horrific "I dropped the baby" story. And all of these babies lived throught these traumas unscathed.

Sleeping In

When I called Andy at work around 1 p.m. to tell him that I was leaving work early to go home since I had actually taken a vacation day today but forgot about it, he informed me he wanted to sleep in tomorrow morning.

That's why when you're about 9+ months pregnant and ready to pop, people issue a warning "you'll be sleep deprived when that baby arrives" and "better catch up on that sleep now before the baby comes." As if it's that simple to sleep with 35 extra pounds attached to your front: it's impossible to sleep on your stomach due to the extra load, impossible to sleep on your back because all that weight arches your back so much that it hurts, which leaves sleeping on your side. For me, however, even with all extra cushions properly placed between the knees and supporting the belly, I could only sleep so much before my hipbone on which I was laying would start to hurt and the opposite butt cheek (the one high up in the air) would get all stiff and sore, as if I were doing butt cruches in deep sleep.

But what people don't tell you is that sleep deprivation is cummulative. We're more tired now at six and a half months than we were at birth. Between the baby who wakes up on average every two-three hours between 7 p.m. and 5:40 a.m. -- sometimes to nurse, other times just because to cry-- the dog who between 2-4 a.m. starts her musical whining demanding to be let in the back yard, sometimes to pee, other times to bark into the night (and if she's not barricaded upstairs in the room with us but we by some omission leave her in the living room, she'll just pee on the carpet), and our otherwise quite pleasant neighbor who in the last two years since we moved in has been consistently doing some nightly house and yard repair -- he must be either digging for treasure or burying dead bodies -- we have not gotten more than an hour or possibly an hour and a half of sleep at night.

That's why Andy requested to sleep in tomorrow morning.
"But we are going to meet Kris and Alex for breakfast at 9 am tomorrow," I replied. Nine am was the strategically chosen hour when the baby will be awake and the breakfast/brunch crowd will have not risen yet. Since teh baby "woke up" at about 3 months, we really haven't taken him to any public eating spaces. It just seemed like too much of a hassle, trouble and work.

"Oh that's fine," Andy responded. "I was thinking like sleeping in 'til 8."

Silly me, who still thinks that sleeping in implies waking up at the crack of noon.

Adventures in Pureeing

Mr. Meh started eating solid foods a few weeks ago. First it was rice cereal with breastmilk. The menu then expanded to include sweet potatoes and carrots for a week or so. THey he got some butternut squash. This week cauliflower, peas and bananas were added to the mix.

After trying to figure out what's all that about -- trying to grab the spoon with both hands and put both hands and the spoon in the mouth while reaching for the jar -he really liked the cereal. He was equally crazy about sweet potatoes and carrots.

He likes eating so much that if there is more than a second gap between spoonfulls he gets cranky and demands the food. Taps his little hands on the high chair tray. And when he does that, all I keep picturing in my head is Pink Floyd and "you won't get any pudding...."

But then yesterday when we tried feeding him cauliflower. After two spoon attempts he promptly spit it out. Didn't like it. Later in the day he was served peas. He scarfed them down. The squash was so, so.....I didn't puree it, just mashed it. Maybe that has something to do with it.

Today, he was introduced to a banana. He liked it but not as much as the veggies.

It's so funny to think that such a little being -- only six months old -- has such distinct likes and dislikes.

Pureeing
I guess I'm more granola than I let on. I decided to make and puree all the food more Meh. I'm really enjoying it. I think. I think it's really the idea of pureeing than I enjoy that the actual process, but hey it's only been a few weeks.

I guess it's the extension of breastfeeding. So far I've been exclusively breastfeeding. And now I don't want to let go. I don't want to introduce formula. It someone seems sacrilegous to do so. Although I know that I eventually will have to. I'm slowly losing milk, the pump is doing a number on my nipples, and ultimately it's really distracting to do it twice at work.

So, I've been pureeing food. Sweet potatoes were kind of easy -- difficult to peel and chop (but I knew that from before), but once they're cooked (which takes forever) they are easy to mash.

However, no one told me about carrots. I cooked baby carrots. And cooked them, and cooked them. Finally after 1/2 hour I decided they were done. And the pureeing nightmare started. It took me almost one hour to puree the baby carrots and I still ended up with a few unpureed bits (which I ate. why throw out a perfectly good carrot). Next time I decided to cut the carrots up in small pieces and then boil them.
Maybe that will be this weekend's project.

I first need to boil spinach, broccoli and rutabaga that I bought. So far I couldn't get myself to spend another night batch-pureeing. There are still peas and sweet potatoes and cauliflower to finish up.

Return of Aunt Flow

Two-three weeks ago, Aunt Flow came back.

Actually, it was more like Aunt Trickle, visiting just for a day. In any case it took my by surprise. I forgot about it. I also forgot what to do about it.

As I was getting ready to for work, I had to think hard of all the accessories I'd have to take with me to accommodate with Aunt Trickle. I had to remember where my stash of pads and tampons was (always in the same place, under the sink) and what I was supposed to do with them.

Big boy tears and real hugs

Real Tears
As of a few weeks ago, every time Meh cries, he's been crying "real" tears, ie the corners of his eyes get all watery with tears. It's no longer just a piercing wailing cry, but real tears. It makes his suffering -- although half the time he's not really crying out of need but just want -- so much more real and so painful for us.

Real Hugs
On the other hand, he's also been giving us real hugs. He's not longer just a sack of dead weight potatoes when I pick him up, but now he extends his arms wanting to be picked up. Then once in my arms, he actually puts his arms around my neck and hugs me back. (Unless he's trying to pull on my hair, grab my nose, gouge my eye out or sqeeze my cheek)

First Food

Meh is about to turn six months this week. Yesterday we gave him rice cereal for the first time. Today we fed it to him twice. He scarfed it down.....kept holding the spoon and licking it, wouldn't let go of the spoon (started getting angry with me).

It was the cutest thing. He was so happy, he was devouring the food and the spoon with his mouth, hands and eyes. It was a full body experience. It's so enchanting to see how much pleasure and excitement introducing something -ie food- we take for granted.

It was also very sticky and messy. Since he's mine, there is nothing I can do but just clean him up thoroughly. Although that's easier said than done. This is what I feared --- the onset of stickiness: sticky fingers, sticky face, dirty clothes.....just overall stickiness. And there is no way around it. No way to make him not stick his hands into it and it be spread all over his face, hands, bib, clothes and the high chair.

It wasn't the poop (and there have been so many poopy diapers not to mention poop explosions all the way up to his shoulder blades) and even not so much the spit up that's getting me, but this stickiness is what I didn't look forward to. (There haven't been any puke incidences or runny noses yet. Although a few times I had to pull buggers out of his nose. And although he's my kid, a bugger is still a bugger, and it was gross.)

But I obviously adore him regardless of all my squimishness.

Breastfeeding militia

Before I gave birth, I was really open minded and nonchalant about breastfeeding or not. I had decided I was going to give it a try and see what happened. It if worked, I would breastfeedl; if it didn't, I'd formulafeed.

Turned out, breastfeeding was easy for me and I have been exclusively breastfeeding the baby for the last 4 and a half months. I also found it very easy. If I had to bottlefeed during those first few newborn weeks, I think I would've lost it. Breastfeeding was seemed so much easier, simpler and faster. Just whip out a boob and the food was ready.

Now, a friend of ours had a baby a couple of weeks ago. She had decided from the get-go that she wasn't going to breastfeed, but give the baby formula.

It's none of my business and it wasn't my decision and I have no right to judge, obviously, but ever since that baby was born (we went to see them at the hospital), I find myself getting really annoyed and angry when I reflect on my friend's decision not to breastfeed.

She didn't even try. Had she tried and decided that it was too hard, painful, inconvenient, etc....I would've understood and respected her decision. But the fact that she didn't even try, really bugged me.

It's one simple gift of health (the immunity and all) you can give to your baby, not to mention that, at least I found it to be, a time and sanity saver during those first few weeks.

I feel that if you can't even try to give that to your child, what else will you not "sacrifice" in the future and not provide for your child.

Utter Bliss

Everyone who knows me knows that I was the 'most anti-mom, least motherly, didn't really care about babies and kids" woman around. The one who asked completely baffled and uninterested "what do you do with a baby all day long."

And everyone said to me, "once you have your own kid, you'll see, it will change."

And were they right. It's true. I fell in love with my baby as soon as he was born --- butteflies in my stomach and all. When he opened his eyes and started looking at me and smiling, the butteflies only intensified.

And now, at four months old, when I do silly things to make him laugh, he laughs back -- making little laughing noises -- which makes me laugh even harder, which just cracks him up even more.

At these laughing moments, I experience what can only be described as utter bliss and a complete state of happiness. It's like nothing I've experienced before.

I had no clue that it's possible to feel like that and that a baby can make you feel like that.

Had I known that, I would've had one sooner.

At the pediatrician's

When we arrived at the doctor's office today there was a young mom with her infant in the car seat waiting. After a few minutes one of the receptionists remarked that he was going to call the cab company again.

It turned out she had been waiting for about 30 minutes for a cab to come and pick her up. The receptionist said the cab would be another 10 min.

We went in, had our appointment, chatted with the doctor, waited for the nurse to give the baby some shots, and came back out again. We must have been gone for at least 20 minutes.

The young mom was still there. Waiting for a cab.

And this was in a more suburban than urban area, during rush out traffic.

I obviously don't know what her story was. I assumed that she was poor and had no car.

Poverty, i.e. the lack of car ownership, translates into one big waste of time -- waiting and relying on public transportation to get around.

(But who knows, maybe there was another reason why the woman was waiting for a cab)

Pregnancy markers fading

Now, 4 months after giving birth, I'm slowly sheding last vestiges of pregnancy.

-I've finally stopped peeing my pants when I sneeze.

-Last week my hair started falling out again. It was nice to have had long luscious hair, if only for 9 months of my life (or until the next pregnancy).

-My linea negra is almost completely faded

The only things that remain are:

- Still no period (yeay)

- Enlarged belly button -- will it ever shrink

- 15 lbs of pregnancy weight (+10 lbs of prepregancy I-got fat weight)

So I ask myself, when does the "I just had a baby" weight excuse become an "I'm just fat" fact.

When does the time frame "I just had a baby" become a distant past and one just starts looking silly blaming her fat(ter) self on the baby instead of chocolate and cookies.

On Becoming Mom

After 9+ pregnancy and 4 post-partum months, I finally succumbed and decided to start this blog.

To record my life as mom, which I think is funny since I still can't fathom myself as mom (although I am) nor have I ever in my life dreamt about becoming a mom.

And for the record I wanted to title this blog My Life as Mom, but alas that title was already taken (by someone who doesn't seem to be blogging at all, I must remark).