Wondering Minstrel Magic Manic Panic Baby

While two months melted mommy's marginal brain, purple, mauve and chartreuse baby fuss fuss kept the midnight oils burning and churning. Grandmamas flocked from far and wide to pay homage to the awesome infant. Babies and puppies crossed drooly maws as teething tittered and tottered on the edge of infancy. And booby vocab was unlocked in acronymical audaciousness.

In the twelve week wonderland, Miss Chay-chay gets all new levels of sleepless awe and awesome anger. But in between, the cute overwhelms all but the biggest toothiest of smacking babies. No-go naps nullify the nuance of a burgeoning baby brain. And the grabs get good, as milestones are met!

Wonder Weirdo Weeks and the Frangible Frenum

I will always have an excuse for my baby's fussy spells. There's always something. It's not our lot for the long haul. It was purple crying. Intermittently, it is teething. Sometimes it's gas. I'm fairly certain that she is easily overstimulated given how her meltdowns frequently coincide with social events. And she is perpetually "off schedule" in some way or other that predicts a nice long stretched of "I missed my nap WAAAAAAAAAAH." 

But according to current baby trends, we should be entering a "stormy period." These coincide with major leaps in cognitive development. At 12 weeks, babies typically have a little leap during which their motions become less jerky, and babies become keenly more aware o contrasts and patterns in the world around them. This manifests in following movement more deliberately, being "active and "squirmy," blowing saliva bubbles, turning from stomach to back, clearly indicating her reaction to something she finds funny, and (this one is for sure) they start playing around with vocal modulations (practice happy and sad shrieking for their toddler tyrannies to come). The leaps come at "Wonder Weeks." As in "I wonder what the frick happened to my sweet adorable baby" weeks from the literature. I guess all that increased awareness can be overwhelming, so there are a list of stormy type behaviors to be anticipated. 

During these periods, baby is "fussier" and "clingier." She "sleeps less" and "cries more." They may need more holding. Or less. More food or less. And generally these weeks have been called regression weeks. Oh the Chay-chay cha-cha. Forward, back, cha-cha-cha. Back, forward, cha-cha-cha! This either happened last week, is happening this week, or likely will happen next week. It kind of all depends on the baby. 

Anyways, I'm not sure if this all coalesces since Chaya goes back and forth by the hour, but I guess I'll take the advice to be extra attentive this week. She has certainly had her moments this week. But lots and lots of distraction does seem to have helped get some sunny baby moments out as well. 

Then again, maybe "stormy" is apt, since she's a veritable typhoon these days. I don't know how much drool a baby can produce, but Chaya is close to a record holder I'm fairly certain. And her typical propensity for reflux has been boosted twenty-fold with the extra drool she gulps down while eating, playing, and gasping for air before ambiguous happy-sad shrieking. Whatever the source, you can guarantee that she'll gush at random a liquid of varying degrees of opacity. My poor treadmill. If I haven't managed to kill it with my own slow utilization, I'm sure Chaya will manage it in no time. 

As for actual teething, no signs of a prominent tooth yet. I'm told it could take months (hey an excuse for all those "sunny weeks" that aren't 100% sunny). Miles, the leviathan about to eat my baby's head in the picture above (really, his mother yelled from across the room "Don't let him chew on her head!!!") is teething aplenty. At six month, he has five and is working on his sixth. He's also roughly the size of your average one-year old. Having him next to Chaya is endlessly entertaining to me. They cannot possibly be the same species. 

Aside from a near-miss to Miss Chaya's cranium and roughly rivers of drool, things go well enough in babyland. Despite my desire to transition back to boob entirely, no such prognostication is in the sunny-stormy forecast just yet. I did try nursing constantly in the hopes that my clearly demonstrable oversupply (check out our freezer) would suffice if she were fed often enough. During one fussy day that I wasn't really trying, she actually did go all day without a bottle. The following day, as I actively attempted to cut out the bottle and pump routine, she just couldn't do it. Bottles were broken at the twilight hour and Andrew set upon several misguided Martian strategies for calming (and or working up) his disappointed Venutian. But, after feeling the only resource for "it's not so bad, this is fine this way" was to liken Chaya's inefficient nursing to Hiroshima and Hitler all in one, I have to agree that it is a burden I've been willing to take on for the duration of Chaya's pre-solids life. It is frustrating when the little Dickens fusses and thrashes as if nothing can be extracted from a bosom blossoming with baby juice. It's frustrating that after that rejection, I'll pump twice what she needs in a follow up bottle. But it's also really a miracle that we have preserved a healthy nursing relationship and that I'm able to provide so much milk by any means. Go strong family support and modern technology. And hey, if she EBF'd we'd miss watching her trick of holding her own bottle for a few minutes at a time. 

And on that note, baby is fully asleep in the boba and her neck is flopping back enough to require two hands to hold. 

So I bid you all a happy Thursday! May it be full of wonder and short stormy periods. 

Ask Not For Whom the Babe Stirs She Naps for no wo/man...

Dear friendly people on the trails behind my house:

My baby doesn't sleep more than two hours a shot these days and has recently decided naps are lame. She only sleeps if I'm wearing her and walking and only after a lot of walking; and she will wake up if I stop and sometimes even if not. 

So I appreciate how adorable you (rightfully) think she is. I want to stop and let you fawn on my darling. Truly, I do. But my day depends on this nap sticking. I'm sorry for being a jerk. I hope you heard my whispered "thanks" before the "one step closer and I'll disembowel you" grin repelled you from further interaction.

But seriously, your life means nothing to me at this point. And your adorable children do trigger all those hormonal hot buttons, but only for so long. This is not a pleasant stroll I'm taking to celebrate the break in the weather. THIS IS SURVIVAL! You have been warned. So, so, so sorry to be an a*hole.


Chaya's Mum

Yes we've reached that mental milestone in which baby is aware of the world at all times, but we have not reached any mental milestone in which she's capable of mentally regulating that awareness and, say, falling asleep despite that world (I hear that kicks in around age forty or so?). 

Existentially, she probably equates sleep with non-being. The horror. And she fights it like mad, with a one-two punch of shrieks (happy and mad) and giggles (also happy and mad, because trust me giggling can be furious).

Used to be she would nurse herself to sleep and stay that way until the next time she pooped or needed nursing. Now she will still get milk drunk on the boob, but pop her off and you have between two minutes and fifteen before she will begin to rage. Or giggle and coo. It's fifty-fifty depending on the time of day. 

By night, she's kind of a ravenous mess of a comfort nurser/feeder. Boy are we going to have eating disorders aplenty to stave off. Bulemia, based on all that spit up. Nighttime binging. Comfort eating aplenty. But I digress.

At night, she's constantly on the verge of meltdown due to the accumulated dearth of good sleeping and the piling on of stimuli through the day. This doesn't mean that she isn't also adorable and charming. Just that the charm factor stops and starts between scrunchy faces of doom. And often the big soother is falling just shy of asleep on a nipple. Bottle or boob will do. And she doesn't not like having said nip removed. It will cause voracious and vituperative protest. She's also fifty-fifty about whether the flow of milk from said nipple is desired or offensive. 

Andrew sees the first two protests as signs of hunger. Oddly enough, after she's consumed about four ounces or so and has the exact same reaction he then views it as her being nighttime fussy and decides it's best to avoid the giant baby belly explosion by following her cues for more. But that's an issue for another day. At least he does in fact stop taking her at her word eventually. In fairness, he's very respectful of my suggestions about feeding to avoid the deluge. He doesn't always agree with me, but he listens. Especially after the white ooze puddles on his night clothes. 

So that's evening. 

In the morning, she will become so thoroughly distracted with cooing and interacting with the world, that she may well forget that she even wanted to eat if she did. She may also take a power-nap on somebody's lap. Maybe. If she does, that probably counts as her "nap" for the day, so I prefer that she not. Except she's so darned cute when she does.

And in the middle of the night - or MOTN in online forumese speak - she actually goes about her business and mostly goes back to sleep. Just not for very long these days. 

Anyways, napping. Yes, that's not working as well as it used to. She doesn't nurse herself to sleep by a longshot. And she doesn't really anything herself to sleep at this point. 

Pacifiers can work if she's just in the right mood, but not usually enough for an actual nap. Maybe if I give her a pacifier in a low stimulation environment and hold her the entire time, she will give me a half hour. The carseat might squeeze out a half hour after a good half hour of pre-napping screaming. Laying down in her bassinet decidedly wakes her up. She'll play in there but gets more awake than less. And I'm just not ready for crying it out. I actually hate the idea, but especially before a baby can make mental connections that she can't... not doing it. 

And my go-to standard of "throwing her in the boba and taking a walk" works, but with some major caveats. She now takes fifteen minutes at least to fall asleep in there once she's calmed down enough to want to be in there. She must be walked while sleeping for at least 90 minutes before she will stay asleep if you stop. Once you pass ninety minutes, she may well be out for another hour (creating a whole new problem involved with wondering whether you dare wake a sleeping baby for fear of the hunger that will come raging around with it if she sleeps any longer). But you have to get that far first. 

I'm sure we'll find a solution out of desperation and necessity sooner than later. There's only five bajillion books and an infinite number of helpful opinions on the matter. We'll tailor suit one to our needs. Because the weather is getting bad and baby is getting heavy. Mommy's back is starting to tweak something fierce as it is. 

Until then, I don't think my baby sleeps. If you find a pink sock in a puddle on the trail, chances are I left it there because I just couldn't risk leaning over and waking the child. It's sweet of you to notice, but please understand if I glare at you and whisper only a mild thank you while snatching it from your helpful hand. I am really, truly grateful. But I miss sleep. 

Sleepless Out of Seattle Weird Week and the Wonder Baby.

So, I believe when we left off, baby had decided to stop sleeping. She's still kind of going with that vibe. I say this as she's snoozing in the boba (hence why I'm able to type anything), but it won't last. Sometimes sleep wins, but only briefly. She rallies like none other. Most of the time. 

As I think I mentioned, she's having major cognitive leaps right now. Which is awesome, but also awful depending on the hour. Er, second. Dude, she can hold a toy! I mean she can't just smoothly reach for it and take it from my hand with a gurgled "thankee missy", but should her hands happen to contact it when flailing at it, her grip gets on it and she can look at it with surprise and wonder and... put it in her mouth! Of course. This is a step up from "grabbing all fabric and dangly necklaces around and... putting them in her mouth." She shook that darned rattle!

But as before, this all comes at a cost. Like the last shred of my sanity and roughly three years of my life. 

No more long naps. 

Turns out, she's exhibiting all the indicia of what is commonly referred to as the four month sleep regression. Well, except she never slept through the night anyways, so some of it is irrelevant. I was so cocky, thinking that since she already didn't sleep well through the night that I was immune. I forgot about naps. Oh boy did I. Those things are important. 

So, between three and five months, babies start to develop genuine circadian rhythms. They have sleep patterns that involve waves of deeper and lighter sleep, just like grown ups. No more newborn zonk. No more "sleeping anywhere." Nope, she's too young to really sleep train, but she's too old to just konk. Whoopeedeedooda. If the situation changes between when she fell asleep and a lighter sleep in her sleep cycle, she'll wake up. If she's somewhere with stimuli, she'll never shut off. If she falls asleep in the carseat, you've probably blown a nap and she'll be crazy the rest of the day. The boba's days are numbered

There are a billion recommendations for approaching this, but common themes emerge: (1) everything we could possibly try will scar her somehow - either she'll be unable to ever self-sooth and be a needy wreck, or maybe she'll be damaged and unable to form adult attachments, but something; (2) she should probably be sleeping about ten hours at night and five hours during the day; (3) your baby/my baby is not the exception probably; (4) babies this age get overtired after being awake for two hours at a time; (5) overtired babies just continue getting more and more overtired and sleeping worse and worse - oh boy; (6) babies respond to ritual and consistency; (7) sound machine and dark room for naps; (8) babies sleep better when they go to bed a little earlier - most are recommending like 6 or 7 bedtime, which is way later than we've been doing. 

After that, I can basically duct tape her to my body while writhing like a jelly fish in a dark room or abandon her in said dark room. Or do something in between. It all works miracles for a select few and totally doesn't work for several others. So my choice! No matter what, there's no such thing as "no-cry" with our little communicator. 

So, I'm a little screwed. Especially with a big trip coming up next week, which I'm promised will throw off even a very well scheduled baby. 

But we're going to work on it. I am hanging on to my boba sleep crutch for the rest of her third month. It doesn't work as well as it used to. But it actually gets her to sleep sometimes and is still the only way to squeeze more than thirty minutes out of her recently (sometimes). I'm practicing naptime rituals, even if they're fairly ineffective for getting her to sleep. I'm contemplating how much crying there will be in the four month future. 

Last night we tried the "earlier bedtime." It was not a fair run. The prior two nights, we'd gone up a bit earlier, with her upstairs by eight and me joining at 8:30 or 9:00, when she'd actually fall asleep. This was kind of great, because she slept - for real - more than four hours in one stretch both nights. So I was starting to preach the gospel of earlier bedtime. Makes sense, since she usually gets fussy around 7, which may well mean that it's past her bedtime window. As suggested. 

Last night, though was not a fair test. Basically, she tore through two naps in thirty minutes of non-napping and was a total wreck by six. She was alternating howling at daddy, cooing at daddy and mommy, clinging to mommy, making weird dinosaur unhappy noises at the poster, and nodding off while being held. So we put her to bed at 7:30. 

The positive being that this meant I was put to bed around 8:00, since I go up with her. That is the only ritual that works consistently, and I'm not changing it until naps are dialed. And I darned well took advantage of the earlier bedtime to bed myself. 

The downside being that she decided actually she was going to wake up every two and a half hours. Ok she slept for three hours once. So we had a two and a half, a two and a half, a three, and an hour. I think she's also sick, because she's been breathing a little funny and making whimpering noises in her sleep sometimes. Lucky mommy and daddy. 

Anyways, I am still going to keep trying at least getting her into bed by eight. And, well, I think we're screwed on naps for the next two weeks, but I'll do my best to lay the groundwork for the future. 

In the meantime, my husband sees less and less of us awake, but yesterday we got a little bonus time due to a power outage at work. He may have to work this weekend unfortunately as a result. And I'm winging it at the office since Gramma Pam is ill. Nervous doesn't cover it but at least I made it in one piece and the doors are snugly secured. 

Sleep Psycho Cycles and the Grabby Gaga

We continue on our quest for world dominance and/or a few extra hours of Sleep in the Time of Cognitive Developments. 

Chaya improves her hand-to-mouth tour of the world around her. She is by no means particularly coordinated, but he intentions are clearer by the day, and her alacrity at grasping and gumming increases exponentially by the hour. Each session begins with a little amnesia, some struggle, and eventually delights and revelations. Things! More things! In my mouth! I can lick them! I can chomp on them! I can suck on them! And sometimes they get stuck on my hand when I'm flailing and they make noises until I'm no longer amused by thoroughly panicked but then ooooooh bright shiny thing! In addition to the toys (and sunglasses, because mommy is daft about her future woes) offered to Miss Chaya, she's started to grab my hair, the hose for my breast pump, my phone, the cord for my phone, drawstrings, necklaces, and - my favorite since she currently has talons instead of fingers - my armpit. Grabby grabby baby. 

Grabby baby who still loathes tummy time, but can endure it now for minutes at a time if mommy joins her and keeps her thoroughly entertained. I'm convinced that we need to have her on a mat with better traction. I think she's got the basic rolling and scooting motions, but she keeps slipping on her activity mat. Which I'd find frustrating for sure. She usually ends her tummy times with an unhappy howl and we resume the nursing that was previously truncated by "ooooh shiny thing" and/or some proclamation by mommy that no we do not tear mommy's nipples off and maybe it's time for a burping break so Chaya can spit up roughly 2/3 of what she's just eaten and have room for more!

And of course, as we hone her mind, mommy desperately tries to work out the sleep. 

Good news: Chaya was so totally tuckered that she took her morning nap yesterday without protest. Mommy fought hard and long and managed to squeeze out a second nap by running up and down the stairs several times while a half conscious baby protested upon a premature awakening. It was sweaty, mommy was massively in a calorie debt hole and her bladder was shy of bursting, but we got a full nap in gosh darnit. 

Did it help? I'm not sure. Chaya actually seemed totally beat by about 5:30 p.m. last night. Shoving things in your mouth is exhausting. She was nearly asleep in the boba, and cried with recrimination upon being removed. Very atypical behavior of our little oral adventurer. 

And how about the earlier bedtime? We got her ready for bed closer to 8 this time. I think she was asleep - after a long period of trying to flirt with mommy - at about 8:45 p.m. And... ok, tonight her tummy was bothering her I think. She is a sensitive baby and always has some gas, but with the gas and reflux I tried cutting out/down dairy for a few weeks. Yesterday, attempting to debouch from a major calorie hole, I had a quest bar. Which is primarily milk protein. I have no idea if the two are related, but it was a miserable stomach gurgling kind of evening. One which was shockingly book-ended by good sleeps. Three hours on the one side and four and a half on the other. With a middle ooey gooey center of waking up every hour and not getting back to sleep for at least a half hour

First, she woke up after her eleven o'clock feed, mewing with abandon. I decided that - despite my husband's sleeping corpse upstairs - it was most likely to work to get her back to sleep by repeating our bedtime ritual. So I got her in bed in my lap and sang oh so quietly to her for fear of stirring the Andrew beast. He was, naturally, stirred. And restless. Oh god, so restless. It was cold in the bedroom. He had somehow managed to shed the blanket at some point. He wanted it back even though it was underneath my semi-comatose (finally) baby. So tugging commenced, rocking baby in a less than soothing fashion until I hissed vituperations at the still somnolent blanket-thief. Confused, but assured that his course of action would be met with blows, he then commenced to shimmy down the bed so that he could envelop himself in the available bed cover. This caused further rocking of a totally different nature. 

Chaya fell heavy into my arms. The night was quiet. I slowly moved to lower myself down into my pillows when BAM a pillow plummeted over my face. Chaya was just nearly implicated, but remained - thank god almighty - asleep. I was thrilled, fishing myself out from under the pillow, glaring at my slightly snoring husband and heaving the pillow back at his head. It skipped off his head and onto the ground. I imagine to his confusion, as he woke shortly afterwards, looked at me, looked at the pillow and then got out of bed to retrieve it. Husband rolled and rocked a bit more and managed to use those adult skills of self-soothing, while I continued holding the baby. Realizing all the while that I would have to move her to sleep on my own. Gradually, gingerly, I propped the pacified against her lips and shimmied down into the bed. I pulled her across my chest. I propped my burdened arm with a pillow and I finally fell asleep...

For maybe fifteen minutes before Chaya began the cycle anew. This time, it wasn't even hunger. It was distress not otherwise specified. I left the bedroom wondering if she needed a change. I stood there in confusion uncertain what to do next. The husband came out as well. I thought perhaps he was there to make sure I wasn't going to throw the baby down the stairs in a moment of panic. He did actually go downstairs, so I thought maybe he intended to wait down there and attempt to catch her. But he came back up shortly afterwards, kissed us on the forehead and went into his bathroom. Not wanting to keep him up and continue the restless blankie battle cycle, I went downstairs. Chaya spat out one pacifier. I located another one. She spat that one out too. I changed her diaper, which was relatively clean although she reeked of baby methane. Finally, she started to drowse and I crept back upstairs with only a little extra shuffling... getting everything gingerly in position, I feel back asleep... 

For another hour. At this point, it genuinely had been a while since she'd eaten and she did turn out to be hungry. Normally, I pump in the middle of the night. Normally, she sucks one side for a bit, becomes tired, and then passes out in my lap, so an entire side requires a little bit of stimulation. 

Not so much this evening. At the other feed, she had taken both sides and suckled before sleep rousing yet again. There was about an ounce and a half left to pump, which is worth pumping, but not at the risk of having a wide eyed frenzied baby on my hands. So I went back upstairs and nursed there. No pumping. Just letting her suckle to her writhing baby butt's discontent and then easing her back to sleep with the THIRD pacifier of the evening. 

At this point, it was about three in the morning. Given how the night was going, I figured we were in for frequent feedings and no sleep, and I well resigned myself to the deal. 

So naturally, Chaya changed the rules and slept for four and a half hours. Four and a half! Not natural or easy sleep. It was as restless as her daddy's sleep. There were farts aplenty. At about six a.m. she obviously splurged into her diaper. There was rolling and discomfort and free arms waving from all directions. But she did sleep. I would see the clock at 4. Then 5. Then 6. and finally at 7:50, we agreed it was morning. 

My boobs certainly did. I didn't know they got that full. Usually, between pumping and Chaya clustering, they get pretty soft. These puppies were about to burst and baby's appetite was ready for them. I don't think she's ever nursed that efficiently in her life, but it was a physical relief. Even if now I worry that morning boob is yet another thing (in addition to bottles) spoiling her into lazy nursing. Though I'll grant that she's gotten a lot more efficient at sipping up these last drops. Sometimes I panic that I must be running out of milk, until I try pumping any time other than right after a feeding. And when I remember that when I was pumping a whole lot, she was bottle feeding a lot. She currently doesn't do much of that, and some of it is either just because she's in a particularly upset mood and can't handle the challenge of nursing, or because it's become part of the daddy daughter bedtime ritual. 

And Andrew didn't actually miss his carpool, though it was close. I woke at 5 and turned off the alarm clock, because like hell I was risking anything stirring the beast at that point. I poked my husband and he responded vaguely. Since he often take five to ten minutes to get out of bed after that, I thought little of it and drifted back off until about 5:40, when I noticed he was still in bed and I poked him more urgently. Another round of bedroom noises and tentative head-kisses as I prayed the baby would not wake and the husband would make it in time to not officially be late-late. 

And here we are again. At a new day. I'm not really sure where Chaya is ni the land of slumber. We are rounding the perilous forty minute mark in her morning nap. I have black out curtains and a white noise machine and all kinds of things to try in the office in December. But currently, I'm just trying to milk this boba crutch a little bit longer. And crossing my fingers as she writhes about as baby's wont to do. Wish me luck world!!

Midnight Monkey Pup and the Acro-assault

As two month mommy and daddy maundered through the midnight hour, shocking betrayals and stabbings greeted poor baby Chay-chay, who roared her vituperations in throaty aplomb. Booby traps set off with the pop fizz of dom perignon peridon. The bottle bonanza brewed new horizons, as off-label interventions altered equations. And Earth's Best bye-byed predominance in little baby bellies. Symphonies started and self-soothing sucking seeped through the drool and down the arm. Mommening moment resurged. For a little while. 

Winding through the third month of Chayliciousness, monkey's midnight hours were markedly mean on mommy's marginal mental acuity. Pretty puppies preened and gnawed through Niagras of drooly delight. And acronyms aplenty washed over a new phase of boobylicious babosity. 

One Little Monkey Farting up on the Bed Or Sleepless North of Seattle

I'm told they start sleeping through the night more. I'm told. Ok, sometimes it kind of happens where Chaya beastie gets confused and sleeps a full four hours. After her immunizations, I thought perhaps we were really graduating to a new level. She ate less, she slept longer. I slept period. But no, that was the side effects of the shots I believe. 

The last two nights, she's played around a bit with her previous schedule to celebrate her ascendancy to "older baby," but has been making sure to keep those intervals just short enough to constitute light (and oh so adorable) torture for mommy. Actually, she's added color to her schedule. She's usually had a bit of a midnight feed and a four a.m. feed. Those times were fluid based on her fluid intake. If she ate after nine, then midnight to one and later in the four thirties were her eating times. If she ate earlier, it was more like 11-12 and 3-4. The benefit of this was that she had a bedtime which also shifted. Everything stayed of a piece, but slightly to the left or right of midnight. 

Recently, she's combined schedules a bit for maximum effectiveness. Having heard that her two month week is the purported "peak (and pique!!) of PURPLE crying," she's really indulging these days with the overtired wailing. As the week wears on (mostly on mommy and daddy), she continues her preference for "mommy in the kitchen with the allen wrench..." er wait "mommy in the kitchen bouncing a thumbsucking hand gnawing Chaya beast who is currently glazed but will WAAAAAIIL bloody murder if mommy leaves the kitchen or dares to hand her off to somebody else who wants to bounce in the kitchen with crazy baby" phase in the evenings. 

She has previously been a little more chill after her last evening feeding once daddy has swaddled her. Previously. Last night she was not buying it. My throat is aching just thinking about the volume levels. And yes, just to be a little cruel, she would glaze into a calm when mommy held her, nearly nodding off right up until mommy gave her to daddy to hold in bed while mommy brushed her teeth. Poor daddy needs earplugs. Poor mommy needs roughly five weeks of sleep. 

Anyways, yes, fussier at night. Meaning she doesn't get calmed down enough to get over the whole overtired thing until ten now. Making the midnight stirring a little bit more jarring. She'll naturally fall asleep a few times while nursing or bottling. Naturally, that does not stop her from rousing and screaming - once again, because there's a theme here - some lightly bloody murder until she has a nipple in her mouth. At which point she can - naturally - zonk without doing much more than dribbling liquid down her chin or spitting up down mommy's pumping bra. 

And there's a slow lead in to the three am waking involving all kinds of discontent baby noises that do not manifest in a thoroughly stirred baby until a shaken mommy has spent a good amount of time flickering in and out of a crusty consciousness. 

Of course the three am feed usually ends around four. And slumber is broken around five a.m. when mommy pokes daddy and tells him "breakfast is in the fridge and coffee is on" before trying to pretend she never moved lest the Chaya beast catch on to all the action. 

And then there's a 5:30 semi-conscious fuss from Chaya that dissipates until ... well, 6:30 yesterday ... and all the way to a disconsolate 7 a.m. this morning!

I am ... 


And not entirely able to sneak in the naps I had at earlier times, mostly because Chaya's daytime nap preferences typically revolve around "being in the boba (after a rage fit about being placed anywhere near it") while mommy walks." I'm getting back into pre-pregnancy shape like gangbangers for sure. Although eating enough is a whole 'nother challenge. My poor little milk supply. Between the sleeplessness and the nutrition, I dunno if even dom perignon can compete. 

Yep, still taking the little lactation tic tacs from Thailand or Canada or wherever. They have not turned me into Bessie the Milk Cow. There was a pretty substantial peak this weekend and now I seem to be steadying back to a little less. I do think stress and sleep have some impact and maybe weekends are better because I get a nap and eat a bit more. But I am able to provide more breastmilk than formula at the moment, and to nurse my baby without her frustration truncating the session in favor of bottle boozing. And I never thought I'd be able to say that again, so for however long that lasts, that's kind of cool.

Although I am starting to think I'll be giving her more of the formula at night. It takes longer to digest than breastmilk so formula fed babies often go longer between feedings... just sayin' 

Anyways, many of my friends have four month olds and are talking about "sleep regression." Really not sure what that would look like for us here. Maybe she's doing all this to keep me nice and ready for the big teething terrors that are up next on our new parent plate.

Happy whatever day it may be. I've got a cute baby and only hallucinate every few hours. Life is good. And coffee is helpful. 

The Undead Dromedary Day o'Many Manias And a weekend visit from down south

So, the weekly "my fabulous night" report: 

Chaya was a little off schedule last night in terms of having her feeds a bit later than usual. She also eventually just lost interest in, say, eating in preference for (1) being adorably interactive for a few heart-pumping minutes after a blessedly long nap, and (2) spazzing the frig out for several heart-pumping decades following. Or something like that. Actually she wasn't that bad as the baby sobs go. I'd call it a 6 on the fussy baby Richter Scale. But as is increasingly common (now that she's a little older and we aren't inadvertently starving her), eating does not help when she's fussy. In fact she will fuss right through an attempted feed and will refuse to do much with the bottle other than writhe underneath it and spit/drool the contents down her shirt. I won't tell you what she does at the breast, but actually she starts off ok there most of the time if she's actually hungry but not too hangry. 

SO that's the backdrop. She started what is usually a 6 o'clock feed at 7:30. She fussed and slurped through two boobs and went under the bottle... briefly. Before she realized we'd reached the fuss-fuss magic hour and hied to meet her contractual fussing obligations for us. Mommy and daddy switched off kitchen duty. Mommy met a calm moment and offered her the bottle. Chaya seemingly took it, but perhaps only to subsequently become angry when Daddy continued the feed. Daddy was undeterred by several little grunts and wriggles, despite mommy's increasing angst (we'll say it was at a level to pronounce AWWWWNGST by the end), but eventually it became clear that the bottle was doing Miss Chay-chay's mood no favors. We returned to walking. Mommy forewent a power pump and had a relatively mellow moment in the kitchen with Chaya. Daddy waited for the 8:00 feed to begin so that we could all watch the last ten minutes of My Name is Earl. 

That feed never came. I know because I finally sent Andrew downstairs and decided that Chaya and I were going to bed. I brought the bottle. But she wasn't into it. I sat with her between 9 and 10 gently propping the pacifier. She fell asleep initially, but her arms were out of the sleep sack so of course she continued to startle herself with spastic baby movements. I woke her while swaddle wrapping her in the sleep sack. She still took the pacifier and continued the long journey to sleeping baby, with several pitstops for little myoclonic baby jerks. 

So... commence the evening roulette at about 10:00 pm. Chaya's typical bedtime actually. Who knew? But I kind of figured she'd be up again earlier than later. 

That she made it to 11:30 is actually a bit of a shock. 

But she did. Mommy didn't quite, since Chaya made noises in her sleep. 

We went downstairs to eat around 11:30ish. Chaya feasted on breasts of many sides. Ok, just the two. Mommy pumped, which was kind of a depressing endeavor, because Chaya had been quite effective at emptying the breasts in the first place (which is the goal, but it's still kind of a nihilistic endeavor to then sit downstairs with a baby on your lap and cups on your nipples for an additional fifteen minutes in the hope of draining yourself even more utterly dry). At least I got to gaze lovingly (and a touch fearfully lest the spell be broken) at my angelic sleeping sweetie. 

We made it back upstairs around 12:30 and maybe around 1:00 a.m. Chaya got back from a brief stirring to fall asleep. She then had a rumbly tumbly (gas not hunger) by about 1:30. That lasted for a half hour of pacifier and holding. She woke again to eat at 2:30. We went back to bed at about 3:30 after the same ritual. Except I had realized that I'd forgotten to make Andrew's sandwich and that we might not be up in time to finish his breakfast. Naturally, while Chaya was feeding, I practiced my one-handed peanut butter slathering, and made some eggs and oats. It passes the time. 

After a feed and a paltry pump - with some bottle swapping and the like - we went back upstairs. 

She stirred ceaselessly through the four o'clock hour. 

The alarm went off at 5:15. I threw a burp rag at Andrew, since Chaya was passed out on me and had just stopped writhing around. I whispered the time to him and he smiled in a daze before rolling over and going back to sleep. I threw another burp cloth at him and repeated the time. He rummaged through his drawers, got dressed and was off to the downstairs. I suspected we'd soon follow, since 5:40 would be the whole "three hours from last feed" marker. And she was again writhing around a bit. But to my delight, we woke again at 6:30. At which point she had bad gas.

Which totally subsumed any hunger she might have had. For a good twenty minutes of bicycle legs, and funny old man grunts. She finally got enough out to mellow and start feeding, at which point BLOOOOOORB - mini-blow out in her diaper of course. We changed,. She looked significantly calmer. I weighed her and decided she'd had about an two and a half ounced so far. We continued.

She drank for a while before slipping off, repeatedly arching her back and fussing when I tried to help her relatch. One might guess she was no longer hungry (having eaten about another ounce by my handy scale math), but she did seem irate about not being on the breast. For a while. Until she was upright, had spat up, burped once or twice and discovered she'd rather look at lights. 

The boob was quite passe. The order of the day was either Chaya's hand, or my finger. And enough lakes of drool to regulate California's water tables.

We sat on the couch together figuring out her next move. I decided that she was still contemplating but wasn't likely to take a breast laying down after several additional struggles. I had a bottle handy that she'd neglected the prior night (the bottle with the medication that supposedly helps with gas - oh well). I started pumping. Which was less depressing because, although she'd had a decent tapas of a tata, there was in fact still some milk left. 

By the way, it was about 7:30 am at this point. 

In my lap, she attempted several times to use her wiley frog legs to propel herself off of my stomach and into the coffee table, before changing tactics and having a thoroughly delightful little Chaya window. 

Yes, for roughly seven minutes, she cooed and laughed and giggled and conversed. I was not snowed by this. Such charming behavior always presages a subsequent meltdown. But I enjoyed it anyways. When the fussing began, I stalled for time doing my mommy-arms work out. This currently involves bouncing her up and down very boisterously on my lap while chanting "Ten Little Monkeys Jumpin' on the Bed." In my version, the monkeys bop their heads. I do not approve of animal cruelty in my limericks. 

As this devolved, I managed to gently disentangle myself from my milk-cyborg paraphernalia without spilling too much milk (over which to cry of course, because trust me, it is ok to cry over spilt breastmilk whether it leak from a bottle or be spewed down your breast out of your baby's nose)  and start the swaying in the kitchen ritual, as things escalated. 

My mom arrived in the nick of time to rescue me from another baby meltdown. Or at least from soloing it. This gave me enough time to throw stuff together, start the dishwasher and get us both properly fled from the home as Miss Chaya raged herself right into a hoarse stupor, face covered in tears, drool, and mother's milk. 

I daren't speculate what comes next. But she is currently asleep. Fingers crossed. 

Yesterday, she had another little rage fit that required mommy to put her in the boba and then run very slowly but bouncily for ten minutes of a walk. Forget post-partum weightloss programs, but little creature is a drill sergeant of a personal trainer. She likes her mommy's fit and underslept. Baby bootie camp will be the hottest new workout torture for all I'm sure. 

Anyways, Chaya is Chaya. We're hoping she sleeps for a while, sweet dumpling squash that she is. 

And she's had a busy week, so I understand if she's a little off her rhythm. 

This weekend she had her second weekend with Gramma Lisa. This was a far more interactive one than the one month visit. They get along swimmingly, insofar as Gramma Lisa knows the secret to bouncing a crying baby. This is golden. I have myself another safe person to trust with the little lady. They took a long nap together on the rocking chair. And also had some time to play together. 

Yesterday, she had another date with Sebastian while I had coffee with his mommy. They both slept. Well, Sebastian came out to give a sweetly sanguine little baby sob, and suckle a pacifier. Chaya was out after another rager of a morning. They have so many interests in common! Sleeping! Pacifiering! Being worn by tired mothers! They are quite decidedly bosom buddies. Har har.

At any rate. Chaya is asleep. Mommy is not. Mommy is very behind on things she would like to do in the waking world. And kind of keyed up after hearing her baby rage for so long. She also knows that baby will only sleep so long as mommy walks. So walk I shall. On my hamster wheel of working wonderment!

Happy Wednesday all! May you find those delightful moments in the between the storms. And may your storms be full of fresh energy and cozy havens.  

Chompers McCrazipup and the B-Day Blow Outs

Of course in the cat-dog divide, Chaya has her feline (read "evil but cute") moments, but in many regards I admit she channels her inner canine. Yes, mommy may desperately flail about her mouth searching for signs of early teething when another bout of raging inconsolababy derails an evening. But just generally our baby drools and gnaws like there's no next hour let alone tomorrow. I'm told the finding her hand was a miraculous comfort reflex. She doesn't always manage to stick with it, but often now the sweet sounds of sloppy sucking interrupts the baby moaning during our kitchen routine.

 I rather appreciate her hand's handiness, although I suspect she can't always find it and that this upsets her. Opening the ongoing conundrum "when do I shove my little baby's hand in her mouth if she is crying?" It sounds sort of awful, but you know if she genuinely just can't get her baby body together enough to get it in there sometimes... 

Chaya does not limit her smorgasboard of digits to her own hand though (despite having a pretty decided preference for the left one and occasionally migrating towards the purer zen of thumbsucking). She also takes my finger and thumb. If presented in the proper way. A finger inserted straight into her mouth will be accepted for brief suckling substitution. Provided that the whorl is facing up. Scratching the soft palate is not acceptable. I don't get a lot of play from that approach to finger-sucking though. Chaya seems to prefer the sideways slant, and plenty of (yes, surely there are teeth, surely!) gummy chomp-chomp. Boy does our little girl have a strong jaw. We are in for it once she develops the full set of baby chomps. Mommy will start to wonder why she bent right into a backbend trying to breastfeed this little terror. And she'll be relieved for those damned bottles we still use. 

And then there's the drool. I think our baby has sprung a leak. 

I'm pretty well certain that her next set of baby toys will be purchased at Petsmart. Because little girl would do well with some squeaky toys and a plastic bone. We'll wait for the real bones until she's ready for solids. Some prefer bone broth. Our demon will want the osseous matter. 

Yet more like a little pup, our girl does not delicately dig discrete dumps for her poop. She does not fling her poo monkeystyle from the confines of her diaper. I will give her that. But likely only because she lacks the muscle control and conscious awareness to attempt to do so. What she lacks in fine motor skills, she makes up for in sheer explosive volume. Mommy has now learned that having a back up outfit for baby in the diaper bag is nice, but seriously the back up pants for mommy will be far more necessary in a pinch and a poo. 

As an addendum to the blow-out biggie, mommy learned the additional lesson that "parenting classes involving young babies are ironically only the province, parents who have their shit together enough to attend a class regularly and who thus already have their parental black belts." Baby and Me continues to be skipped due to fecal matter and sleepless mommies afraid of driving herself places other than "straight to the looney bin." Maybe when the two month terror is a four month funball. Maybe. All the other kids were that age, and it seemed like the class was far more appropriately geared towards that developmental level. 

By four months, Miss Chaya will have been on her very first family vacation. We'll be heading to San Francisco over Thanksgiving so Chaya can see her grandparents and meet her very own uncle! Buying tickets and making travel plans with a two month old around, by the way, not super easy. Probably easier than actually travelling with them, but our negotiations had several rounds confusion and ended up with tickets being purchased while mommy bounced a fussing baby in the kitchen and spat out something about "whatever it's fine, anything is fine... sure..." at baby's intently focused father figure, who then disappeared downstairs to complete the transaction. But given it began with mommy unilaterally buying tickets from United that were twice as expensive and less than ideal... well don't get divorced and don't shake the baby. To this day I'm not 100% sure on the details of our trip despite having a copy of our itinerary.  I believe we are flying out around the holiday and that we do not get to fly out of Bellingham. But I do know that my campaign to just say NOOOOO! to flying on the Sunday after T-day (the busiest day of the year) was successful at least. And that United Airlines makes it appear that you can't get a cash refund for flights cancelled within 24 hours, but they have to do so under federal law, so there are sneaky backdoors to insist upon this refund. 

Her first plane ride at three months! And mommy's blood runs still. I have been told that this is a far better time to attempt plane travel with my baby than pretty much any time within the next several years. I have also been told that it won't be much of a picnic. Except for CHaya, as it seems all women so far agree that the best approach is constant nursing. My sister also suggested valium. She was only joking. Maybe. But it would complement the constant nursing... mellow mommy and baby. 

Little pup is having great little developmental spurts and starts. A few weeks ago, we started in with the smiles and laughs. They are typically signs that soon there will be an escalation right up until baby is thrashing about less happily and sobbing. Because nothing upsets a baby more than being tired. Especially if they've done it to themselves. I relate, but it can be vexing. At these times inconsolababy is particularly resistant to things that would help her fall asleep. At least until she's more glazed than a Krispy Kreme and has properly digested her hand and at least one of mine. 

But recently, the playful times are expanding and the inconsolababy moments are a little bit shorter... I'm hoping this continues. Right up until she actually is teething and then there's sleep regression and then she's a toddler and then she's a teenager and then... But hey, little pockets of easier right? Hopefully by next month they'll be discernably longer. 

In other news, we have reached Friday, which is moderately meaningless, but does mean that much of our typical cycle will occur at home and mommy might get a nap while Daddy watches baby. We might even get a date night while Gramma Pam watches Chaya!

Wish us luck and throw baby a bone or two!

A Brief Lexical Break to Re-orient the uninitiated

Of course, once upon a time I was a DINK (dual income, no kids). This is where the acronyms stop, because until you get into your home remodeling and doggie projects, you don't need more acronyms and special argot that evolves from several support groups. Maybe there are some regular internet acronyms and the myriad emoji, but these are common enough patois that anyone on the internet already can figure them out. DINKs still stay pretty pure.

Ok, my job has five bajillion of them. But in law, we still heatedly debate the definition of the word "is" so we don't want to dwell where there by dragons (also arguing over whether they have adversely possessed their dragon lairs or currently have a prescriptive easement of access across the castle moat). 

You hit TTC (trying to conceive) and a whole new world of special vocabulary, and shorthand acronyms. I don't even recall them all, but know I've been through a tour of those words before. 

And then there's being a new mom. Specifically, a new mom who needs a boost to breastfeed. There are so many acronyms and special words that it makes my head swim. I couldn't possible get to them all, so I'll start mostly with the world of breastfeeding that ne'er did run smoothly. 

Because I want you to know what I mean when I say that after 3 weeks on dom, with a side of moringa and goat's rue, I am pretty much able to go EBM, although my DD's style ensures I'll never be EBF and sometimes I fantasize about going full EP for my LO. But seriously, I can now power pump out enough that I make maybe 15 or more OPD, which is enough on top of nursing to forestall formula! SO glad I found Pinyo and he sent me those razors. 

Buckle your seatbelts. If you think I'm typically incomprehensible... well this actually might make more sense. 

First Some Mommy Forum Basics - these traverse most mommy-forum issues. 

LO - little one. Typically, the acronymer's child and not the miniature Griffin they keep in their pockets.

DD - a gendered way to refer to one's LO. Complemented by DS. Obviously standing for Drooling Devil and Deranged (p)Sycho

PP - not parenting plan as I'd come to expect butpostpartum. As in the infinite stretch after the really big stretch (and tear) down there in which all previous identity is subsumed by physical weakness, delirious exhaustion, and a staggering obsession with bodily fluids. Typically it is a measurement, with origin in the time of birth. Example "At three months postpartum, I am now losing all of my hair. And growing a third arm. WTF?" 

PPD - a serious one. Postpartum depression. Not funny. Not cool. Seek help.

FTM - I hate this one  -full time mom - for implying a working mom somehow is a part time mother. I don't really work per se (so much as distract Gramma Pam at the office), but I've seen women who do. They don't shed their mommyness with the spit-up stained yoga pants as they rush out the door each morning. These women work themselves into a frappucino froth milking themselves in back rooms while other employees take breaks. They're checking in on baby through the day. They're constantly researching the latest parenting whatever and prolifically re-sharing Scary Mommy while working daddies are reading about engine parts and Taylor Swift. Women who don't work have their own crazy that should be honored, but let's say moms are moms regardless of outside occupation in my book. And those who stay home are also more than moms. 

SAHM - maybe not totally better but my preferred answer to these queries. Appropriate to those first precious months of Stranded at Home Mothering when Daddy (and I'd argue that men have a much better ability to shed their dadness when they leave for the day) heads off to work. 

And to the more specific world of the boobage

BF -_breastfeeding. The act of putting a baby to your nipple for sustenance. Nursing would include suckling fur nutritive and comfort. But when you're just starting out your baby will be BFF with all your BF.

Pumping - in this case has nothing to do with sensual body gyrations or the exploitation of natural resources. Wait I take the latter comment halfway back. Pumping refers to the extraction of breast milk via a mechanical or manual device. This milk is stored typically, for future consumption by baby, though it can be pumped-and-dumped if mom is worried about something she consumed and does not want to pass on to the baby. It may also be donated. Pumping is also done in order to increase signals to the brain to produce more milk. 

BM - One of the more unfortunate acronyms. Really, we call bowel movement poop and poo here. BM stands for breast milk

EBF -Exclusively breastfeeding.  Which is what I'd be doing if my supply have had that drop in supply and embraced the bottle/formula mix. Exclusively. Seriously. To the exclusion of everything else including bathroom breaks. Little baby is the most distractable Deranged Demon (DD) ever to sorta suckle and no amount of proper coaching will change her feeding style. 

EBM - Exclusively breast milk. As in baby's diet. No formula. No snickers. Just boob juice ingested through any medium.

EP -Exclusively pumping. See above about working moms. But any several other reasons will cause a woman who does not nurse directly to turn herself into a lactation cyborg during her little breaks. Babies also lose interest in nursing sometimes after the convenience of a bottle. going on what's called a nursing strike. They may have physical challenges that make it hard to extract milk as well. At this point they may be EBM but never touch a teat (except with a flailing hand, foot, head, etc... these are babies here). 

OPD - not to be confused with PPD, though this number can certainly be depressing in its own right. Rather it refers to the number if ounces per day of breastmilk that a woman can pump. A common source of anxiety and perverse pride, this number can artificially quantify a breastfeeding mother's merit as a person. An average 3+ month old baby needs to consume between 20 - 30 (most typically around 24 or so) OPD of milk. Which is why it can be kind of strange to see women in the low-supply support groups posting about going on medications so that they can pump, say, 36. Unless they have twins. But to each their own. I'm sure the women who can only pump 1 or 2 OPB with medication don't feel terribly put off by that kind of thing. I'm sure. 

IGT - Insufficient glandular tissue. An affliction that stymies lactation. 

BFAR Breastfeeding after reduction - and/or other surgery. Which is often a challenge and requires additional interventions. 

PCOS -Polycystic ovary syndrome. I know this one from the TTC board. A hormonal imbalance commonly associated with fertility and lactation difficulties. As it involves insulin resistance many pcos women are also on the diabetes drug metformin.

Hypo - as in underactive thyroid. Another common issue with lactation and a possible side effect of the domperidone. 

Dom - domperidone. The holy breath mint of lactation interventions. A stomach medication that works by inhibiting dopamine receptors in the gut. Its main function is to speed gastric emptying, but as a side effect it increases prolactin. While the FDA does not approve the drug, it is community used off-label in Canada to induce lactation (prolactin being, after all,pro lactin). Women who have grown tired of herbals and cookies (so, the ones with the persistent problems) often try domperidone to increase or induce lactation. The big guns for those shooting lactiblanks. Also an alternative to the drug Reglan, which has similar prolactin boosting side effects but which crosses the brain-blood barrier and can also cause depression and other psych symptoms. Bringing new meaning to the term "on the reg"

Jack Newman - Not the salad dressing guy! Canadian doctor/lactiguru who handles all aspects of breastfeeding. Known for having the most accepted and followed protocol for domperidone use.

Razors - vesperidone is a generic form of the drug Motilium (domperidone ). Vesperidone can be purchased for pennies on the dollar compared to motilium and vomistop (all dom, though fillers may vary and some claim that razors are less effective at a given dose - others don't). Razors are from Thailand. From a dude named Pinyo on his site called Suffice with the url lidocainehclpowder.com.

 And you have to be in the know because they are listed as "feather light Razors" so that he can use PayPal for booking purposes. Because a woman's breastfeeding adventure ought to involve some Philip K Dick approved techno dealings with the neo golden triangle.

The site in question sells many other mysteriously labeled items. None of the dom moms know what these actually are but we enjoy speculating. We're guessing that you do not actually get flip flops and car paint. 

Fenugreek- one of the most commonly used herbal galactogogues. Most often by women who don't really need to boost their supply that much or an initial herbal supplement when supply starts to dip. Ironically, it lowers supply for many hypothyroid women and women on dom. Often paired with blessed thistle, fennel, and nettle. In other words, your first stop to boosting your supply should be a nature hike in the woods Available in pill, tincture, and tea. To my knowledge it's rarely smoked. Known also for causing gas to mom and baby. And giving mom a major syrup odor. 

Motherlove - not as racy as it sounds. Instead a brand of herbal supplements and tinctures frequently used by moms on dom sent other pumping women.

Goat's Rue - an herb that purportedly increases mammary tissue. Also the herbal derivative of the medicine metformin. Popular for women on dom as a supplement for its overlap with IGT & PCOS.

Malunggay/Moringa - Southeast Asian tree from which superfood is derived. Young leaves are taken in powder, tea, or capsule to boost milk supply.

Malted Ovaltine, dark beer, Gatorade, coconut water, mother's milk tea - beverages that women claim to help supply. Malt and hops are galactogogues. The others likely just help hydration. Except for the sugar in Gatorade: all are in the "couldn't hurt in moderation category." Except Mother's Milk's primary ingredient is fenugreek so it might. But probably it's in small enough doses to have no effect. 

Oatmeal and brewer's yeast -most popular dietary galactogogues. With flax and handfuls of sweetener, the basis of most lactation cookies.

Sunflower lecithin -not believed to boost production but taken by women hoping to speed up the let down reflex (connection of stimulation to release of milk) by making the milk more "slippery". Also believed to help reduce incidence of clogged ducts. 

Power pump - one of the techniques that plays on the supply and demand element of breastfeeding. By mimicking the cluster feeding of a baby in a growth spurt (nonstop boob suckling) it signals the brain to produce more milk more quickly. A short term increase over the next few days results.

 Typically done by pumping for ten to twenty minutes, taking a ten minute break, pumping another ten, taking another ten minute break, and pumping one more time. Any variation of pump-break-pump plays on the idea that lactation comes in a series of spaced out let downs. The more you trigger these, the higher the production. Believed to be more effective than simply pumping for longer at a time. If flexible, also a good way to actually fit the incredible burden of" pumping 8-10 times a day in addition to nursing on demand" that's standard protocol.

Power pumping is often paired with the idea of a little vacation watching your favorite hour-long TV show. I think it really requires 80's rock ballads and at least a few montage cuts. When I do power pump, I usually just clean in between. Attempting to do so again ensures that Chaya will be having a little freak out preference m performance art primal  howl just add I start the second pump session. Daddy is no longer encouraged to put her in my lap at these junctures. We'll call it Power Daddy-Daughter Time. 

Slacker boob - just what it sounds like. The breast that hangs out in its bra listening to old lps and playing video games while the other boob goes out and sprays its heart out

... and a bonus one to really tie us back to the theme of these couple of weeks: 

MOTN - Middle of the night. Typically a time most likely for low suppliers to be able to (1) feed their baby without additional supplement (baby is sleepier, supply is highest between 2 a.m. and 5 a.m.), (2) pump a little extra, (3) realize that reality is a shoddy simulacrum of something far more chaotic involving several gerbils on hamster wheels and really that doesn't make any sense, but the last time anything made any sense you had a very large belly and flaming ears and your baby was most of a portable accessory/parasite than the tyrannical lord of all sleep. 

And with that, I wish you a happy, boobalicious week.