First (and I will likely follow this up with a more in-depth post at some point), I love breastfeeding. This has surprised me more, perhaps, than anything else about motherhood. I knew it was best for my baby. I knew I would do it. But I didn't expect to like it. Love it, really. It sounds silly (especially, I am guessing, to those who have never done it) but I feel very proud of the fact that my daughter has been breastfed every day of her life thus far. Up until 6 months, she was exclusively breastfed - nothing else passed those lovely little lips. At six months, she started on fruits and vegetables and has since expanded into some grains and meats. But she is still breastfed like clockwork and I love it. I feel like I am doing right by her ever time I feed her. I love the bonding time; it's built-in, take-a-break-from-life-and-love-your-daughter. I don't even mind it at 11;15 p.m. right as I was on the brink of falling asleep. Or at 2 a.m. Or 4 a.m. Or 6 a.m. For some inexplicable reason, it never ever bothers me to feed her. So I just wanted to share that. Like I said, I have so much more I could say about it and so maybe another rainy day post will be dedicated solely to "the boob" as we call it around here. We shall see. But for any mothers-to-be, try it. You might fall in love with it as I have.
Secondly, boogies - oh my word, the boogies. My little angel is sicky. It's quite heartbreaking and she's not even that bad. God help me if she ever legitimately gets sick. Since yesterday, she has had rosy cheeks and a red bum. She has also been leaking from every single hole in her face. A lot. And yet another cliche is true: "it's amazing what doesn't bother you as a mother." I will wipe those boogers and those runny eyes and that drool with my hand and then immediately use it to wipe my own face. Or to finish my apple. Because those are my boogers and tears and drool. I made all of that. It's not gross, it's cute. The night before last, one of us had an accident in our bed. I won't say which one out of fear of embarrassing someone, but someone peed a bit too much and the sheets were wet at 2:34 a.m. Awesome. Out of bed we were. Changed baby. Cleaned baby. Threw down a blanket over the new definition of a "wet spot" in bed, stuck a boob in a mouth and back to sleep we went. So obviously the first thing I did yesterday morning was strip the bed, wash and dry the sheets, and re-make the bed. (Although, maybe that's not so obvious if you're still grossed out that all I did at 2:34 a.m. was throw a blanket down on top of it. Survival.) Well, I woke up this morning and it looks like all Juliette did the entire time I was sleeping was blow her nose on as many square inches of our sheets as she could possibly reach. So the washing machine and I reunite. It's quite a lot of work having a baby. (But shhh! I wouldn't trade it for the world!)
Lastly, the bad news. F and I were so close to coming to a visitation agreement over the past few days. We had been going back and forth over email with proposals and counter-proposals and counter-counter-proposals. Then today I explained - again - that there were some things I am just not going to voluntarily agree to. Ever. He said he wouldn't either and so we were frozen. He then asked me to switch his visitation time this Thursday and a weekend date next month. I told him that I would be happy to do my best to accommodate him with that if he would agree to this. Well, that is all it took to set him off. I received some nasty text messages, one of which attacked me as a mother. (Really? Ugh. When do men grow up? He is 31 years old. I am the mother of his child. A damn good mother, which he knows, and it's the first place he goes when he's stomping his feet and crossing his arms. So disrespectful.) Anyway, I am fairly confident that the same person attacking me as a mother wants to cancel his regular time with his daughter because of a football game. I wish these men were forced to grow up as much as them women are when they become pregnant; their lives don't change. Yet they still want all the benefits, all the "pro"s of becoming a parent. It really frustrates me despite how much I try to blow it off. So - back to court we go tomorrow. It's our last conference (i.e., another opportunity for the judge to chastise us, tell us to grow up, talk it out, and come to an agreement because we don't belong in Family Court) before our set trial date. I am not giving in this time. I'm just not. I have to follow my gut and do what I think is best and if other people around me think that makes me "difficult" or "a bitch," I just cannot care. I am crossing everything that a miracle will occur and someone will grow up a bit tonight as he sleeps and be willing to agree with me tomorrow. If not, well...I am sure you will hear about it here.
Love,
Momeo and Juliette
XOXO
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