Oh Seven and We'll Watch Them Fall...

Stole this from SpuddyBuddy:

Seven Things I Want to Do Before I Die:
1. Go to Italy, Ireland and Greece
2. Own my own home
3. Give birth three more times
4. Have enough money (without saving all year) to take all 4 of my children to Disney World
5. Jump Ryan Reynolds
6. Go on a cruise
7. Jump Bruce Willis

Seven Things I Cannot Do:
1. Cook
2. Park a car
3. Intentionally hurt an animal
4. Speak any other language
5. Lose my superstitions
6. Get drunk
7. Apologize easily

Seven Things That Attract Me to Blogging:
1. My own website
2. Being able to write whenever and whatever I want
3. Knowing that my online persona might be completely fake and you would never know it - mwahahah
4. I no longer have to physically (with pen and paper) write all this shit down; I can just type it
5. Knowing the handful of people who come here would totally miss me if I stopped writing
6. Knowing I can post pictures of my child from now until eternity and the handful of people would still return, if only in the hopes of never seeing my child again
7. The hope that I will convince more of my friends (even my demonic twin!) to start blogging once they realize how much fun it actually is

Seven Things I Say Most Often:
1. F* you
2. You know what I would like buy when we get some money?
3. I have to pee
4. I love you
5. Why are you awake? You're supposed to be sleeping
6. Go to sleep
7. Sleep, sleep... Poppies will put you to sleep...

Seven Books I Love:
1. The Langoliers, Stephen King
2. The Heaven Series, Virginia Andrews
3. The Harry Potter Series, JK Rowling
4. Most anything by John Saul
5. Most anything by Dean Koontz
6. The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe
7. The Pokey Little Puppy, Little Golden Books

Seven Movies I Watch Over and Over Again:
1. Ten Things I Hate About You
2. The Labyrinth
3. Dirty Rotten Scoundrels
4. Titanic
5. Indiana Jones & the Temple of Doom
6. Dude Where's My Car?
7. Anything with Bruce Willis

Seven People I Want to Join in:
At the risk of being insensitive to the entire handful of people who come here, I'm not going to list anyone's names. But DO fill this out in the comments area for me - if only to give me more comments. I'm a wannabe-comment-whore.

When I Say, "Good News Everyone!" You Have to Think of the Professor from Futurama Saying It

My knee is almost better. I almost don't look like some schlep moron with a twisted dance-walk thing going on. In related news, my neck is also better and I don't want to scream in agony when I turn to the right. Also, the lower right side of my back is now in cahoots with the lower left side of my back, and each side will have a spasm party at will.

The comfrey has settled all four parts of my wounded body rather well. Except for the random back spasm partying, that is. I can't explain to you how annoying it is to be in the midst of washing up the dishes (because I can't be ratted filling the dishwasher, I'm that lazy) when all of a sudden the lower left side of your back dives head first into a skewering painful spasm causing you to cringe into the left side of your body, hoping that it will alleviate the sudden onslaught of pain. Of course, in doing this, the lower right side of your back decides it is also going to jump on the spasm bandwagon, because god forbid it feels left out. So there you are, doing this funky cringe-hunched-over kind of motion, alternating between swaying from side to side and trying to do a full body wave in order to escape the pain somehow, in full view of the street because you have the garage door fully open, and the garage opens onto the kitchen which is where you currently are, attempting to wash the dishes in the sink because you're too damn lazy to load the dishwasher.

In non-related news, god bless the makers of those vibrating bouncer dealies that the kids seem to love. When we can't settle the wee lass, we chuck her in that thing, turn it on and she settles almost instantly. It must be the violent vibrations that cause her gums to chatter together, that she likes. I can't wait until she finds her voice and will sit there and hum to the vibration so it sounds funny.

Getting back to my dishwasher for a moment, D loaded it up tonight. A full load. On the tough-grime cycle. That has no bearing on what I'm about to say though, I just thought I'd tell you what cycle we usually have our dishwasher set on. Anyway, our dishwasher scares me. I say this because it happily begins its routine, gurgling and wooshing away, until it gets to the pause cycle. I'm not really sure why there is a pause cycle, but there is, and it pauses for a good 5-10 minutes. It's at this point that I realize the dishwasher is no longer loudly humming to itself, and I wander over to see if it's done. Of course, I should point out that it takes me about 5-10 minutes to realize that it's stopped making noise. So, off I toddle, over to the stainless steel contraption, and look at the dial. It's about that time that the dishwasher, as though sensing my presence, inwardly and very vocally belches and then does what I can only describe as a very loud but satisfying sigh, before the water rushes in and it continues through the rest of the dishwashing cycle. This always, always scares the everliving shit out of me. You would think that having lived here for six months, that I would be used to it, but I'm not. And each time that first belch happens, my body involuntarily convulses and my mouth involuntarily spasms into some funky shape that I cannot describe. The moral of this story? It's good to face your fears, and I fear the dishwasher.

Also, if you haven't seen Waiting... then you really should. I laughed my ass off during it, but it contains an assload of swearing so if that's not your bag baby, then I suggest not watching it. Also? I think I'm mildly in love with Ryan Reynolds...who was once engaged to Alanis Morisette?! I guess "You Oughta Know" wasn't written about him.

Walking Wounded

Let me tell you an amusing little incident that rendered me somewhat crippled last night. I say somewhat because I'm not wheelchair or bed bound, but oh lordy...

So, I shall pre-empt this by telling you we have 3 new additions to our family. These new additions are small and green and hop. Yes, we have 3 baby green frogs in our back yard (and evidently the garage as well).

Last night I was in the garage, and on my way back in. Kira was awake and hungry, and D was busy getting her bottle ready for her, when he and I almost collided as I entered the kitchen. He looks down, points between my feet and proclaims, "Ohhh!" which caused me to leap into the air (literally, yes I leapt like 2 feet) only to come crashing down on the hard, white tile. I landed on my feet, though as my feet touched the ground, something skewed with my left leg, and I jarred my knee, which sent pain skewering up to my hip the lower left side of my back.

Now. What was I jumping in hysteria from? Normally when things are pointed out around our house, they usually have 8 legs, are pretty big and quite hairy. This time? Four legs, green and terribly frightened. Yes, yes, I LEAPT two feet in the air over our little froglet. Thank christ I didn't squish him.

It's funny now. It was funny last night. I alternated between wanting to laugh and holding back tears of insurmountable pain. My entire body shook for about five minutes straight before I could even think about putting weight on that leg. Have you ever jarred your knee? It's really not very comfortable.

I thought by going to bed and relaxing that my knee may be better by today. Not so. In fact, through the night I kept waking up to the twinges of pain as I moved around. When Kira woke up for her early morning feed, I swung my legs out of bed, knee all a-twinge, spontaneously burst into tears (quiet sobs mind, so I didn't wake D) and fetched her from her bassinette to bring her into bed with me. It took almost a full minute for me to get her to my bed, and I was so sure my knee was going to give out and I would drop her, or fall on her. Obviously (and thankfully) I didn't.

Oh, and I also have a neck injury, it seems, on the right side of my neck. Pulled muscle? I'm not sure. All I know is that it's painful to turn my head to the right.

Mamala came up for a visit today with my sister and her boyfriend, and she brought with her a small jar of comfrey cream. She informed me over the phone this morning after I rang her to see if she had anything that would take swelling down (I don't have any deep heat, or lavender oil, or vinegar...) and she promised she'd bring up the comfrey when she came. And she made good on her promise.

Five minutes after walking through my door, she had the comfrey cream out and was applying it to my knee, and then to my neck. Within ten minutes of that, my knee felt worlds better and I was able to put pressure on it where I couldn't before. Not alot mind you, but at least now I don't have to walk with the left leg completely straight. At least I can bend it somewhat when I walk. And my neck doesn't twinge near as much either.

I still don't trust myself to hold Kira or walk around with her yet, not until the knee gets much better than what it's doing right now. Hopefully with the continual use of the comfrey cream, it'll be better in a few short days.

Wish me luck!

Addendum

I'm a little bit of a moron. A couple of planets shy of a universe. Yesterday when I was ranting about my experience at the health clinic, I completely forgot to talk about the whole pacifier/nipple-confusion thing that I had originally intended to talk about, thus the title of yesterdays post.

Quadruple Sigh.

I was using the wrong bottles, apparently. Well... okay, not necessarily the wrong bottle, but the wrong teat. I was using Avent bottles'n teats, when I should have been using the Pidgeon Peristaltic Nipple. This is to help remove nipple confusion, as this nipple actually mimics a real nipple. It's all very exciting in the world of silicone these days. So I rushed out and bought one. And Kira appears to like it better than the previous ones she'd been used to.

Also, I was told the dummy (pacifier) I was using, was the wrong one. I was using the Nuk Soother which apparently isn't the right one to be using. I should have been using the Cherry Soft Touch Pacifier made by Heinz. Okay, I'm an easygoing girl, so off I toddle down to the store to purchase this new and improved and amazing dummy.

Kira hates it.

Apparently this new and improved and amazing dummy, doesn't lead to nipple confusion like the rest do. I find this really hard to believe, because the dummy itself is almost shaped like a nipple, and when she sucks on it, she gets most upset that nothing is coming out, spits it and starts wailing up a storm. We give her back the dummy she'd been using, and she's happy as a clam. She knows that one doesn't produce anything, and is only there to provide comfort. She knows that one goes into her mouth when she's fussing, or when she's trying to fall asleep. She accepts it happily and will usually fall asleep with it before spitting it out (she really hates dummies in general).

So anyway, that was all supposed to have been put in yesterdays post, but rather than editing it, I felt the need to post it under a completely separate title. No doubt in a few months when I come back to search for this information, I'm going to wish I put it altogether in one post, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

In other news, Mum left us yesterday and headed home. Her two weeks with us were up, and she proclaimed we were doing a "wonderful job", jumped in the car and sped off, leaving only specks of dust in her wake. (Not true really, we don't have a dusty driveway) I cried when she left (freaking hormones!!) and then when I was trying to get a burp out of my wee life-like doll, I wandered into the room Mum had been sleeping in, and thus began crying again. (Hormonal party, all welcome) Uppers anyone?

Oh, and she turned three weeks old yesterday. Wow. Three weeks old! If I'm so amazed now that it's been three weeks already, what am I going to be like when it's been three years?

The Great Debate

We had our first visit to the community health center yesterday, and not only did I get a new midwife to speak with (Janet), I also got to visit with the lactation consultant, Barbara. But, before I get to all the advice Barbara gave me, I'll quickly recap our time with Janet.

I'll start off by saying that I think I like Janet. She seemed very personable, very nice and was a real sweetheart to Kira; who, by the way, has shot up to 8lbs 2oz (or 3.750kg) and apparently is .50grams above the weight she should be at. (Nothing like attempting to make me feel like my baby is fat) Even though Janet said her weight gain was "good", she didn't fail to point out that she is, infact, a little higher than what she should be. Considering Kira had lost 10% of her birth weight (which Janet said was normal), I think her weight gain is absolutely astounding.

She's also 3cm longer, making her 55cm long now, and her head circumference is up to 36.5cm, instead of the 34cm it was at birth. Her reflexes are perfect, hydration is perfect; in short, everything about her growth spurts has been perfect, except of course, that pesky little half kilo that has put her "over" weight. Don't think for a minute I'm going to stress over that, or anything of that nature because I'm not, but it really did annoy me that Janet inferred my child could gain too quickly if I'm not careful.

And what brought me to that conclusion, was that after I told her I was breastfeeding but supplimenting with formula, and how often, Janet promptly exclaimed that it was all "garbage" and I should speak with Barbara. You can well imagine how that left a little sour taste in my mouth regarding her. So, while I really liked how she took care of Kira, I didn't like so much how she made me feel periodically through the conversations.

Now, onto Barbara. Let me just say I loved this woman. She was so wonderful and actually showed me the RIGHT way to get my demonette latched correctly. I did it successfully twice on each breast yesterday before I left her office so of course I was all overjoyed and enraptured and all the rest of it. I thought, Finally, I can breastfeed exclusively!

(Also, you have to love a lactation consultant who advocates beer as a means of increasing lactation; now if I only liked Guiness, all would be super)

Well we got home yesterday afternoon, and do you think I could get her to latch right? Sigh. Double Sigh. No, I could not. I got her on twice last night properly, but then delatched her thinking I'd done it wrong!! Triple Sigh. Of course I couldn't get her back on properly after that, no matter how hard I tried. It was really very frustrating, and then of course, the same thing has happened today.

But! At least now I know how to do it, and I just need to keep working on it and perservering. Barbara did tell me that I should try and breastfeed through the day all the time, and IF I need to, give her the formula of a late afternoon/evening. She also said that if a supp bottle is needed during the day, only give her 40-60mls so she's not completely full, so she doesn't sleep as long, thus giving me more opportunities to breastfeed and get the milkflow coming to where it needs to be.

Apparently that's the problem as well as having never been shown how to get her to latch properly. The milk is there, but it's not flowing quickly and I'm not producing as much as I should be, because Kira had always been improperly latched, thereby causing the breasts to not drain properly. Who knew? So, my "homework" is to get the latching thing down pat.

Though BIG KUDOS to me for doing it right last night (even though the latch was not as strong as it could have been), after I'd fed her, she slept for three solid hours! WITHOUT FORMULA!!! You can't imagine how jubliant I was.

It really is frustrating though, to know I could get her latched properly yesterday so she was feeding really really well, and today I can't do it to save my life. I'm trying not to stress about it (apparently that hinders milk supply) but I'm so utterly frustrated that whatever I try isn't working. I remember exactly how to do it - it's just getting it right. I'm plodding on with it though, slowly but surely. I'll get there...eventually.

It Smells Like a Hippie Shop in Here

On the advice of my acupuncturist/homeopath, I have purchased some herbs which are now boiling on my stove. These are to help clean out my insides (from my uterus expanding - I'm not explaining that), increase lactation and provide me with renewed energy, among other things. I get to drink a cup of the herbal water every day for 8 days.

It smells weird. Not a bad weird, just weird. Sort of flowery, nutty and dirty all combined. My acupuncturist said "It doesn't taste beautiful" and followed it with a laugh. I may have laughed along with him, but I don't remember even though I only got them yesterday. To be honest, the mixture looks rather intimidating and I'm not sure I want to drink it.

I'm having flashbacks to being a kid and Mamala giving me nastyass medicines to take. It does seem to be true: If it tastes like shit, it works. Here's to hoping!

Oh and the little munchkin's thrush is clearing up beautifully. I cannot wait until she's off the Nilstat so she starts sleeping better and not fussing or being upset nearly as much.

So Lazy. So Very, Very Lazy.

I painted my nails about 2 weeks ago. D loves when I paint my nails because it's so "girlie" and he just loves "girlie" things on girls. (Makes sense) It has since peeled and chipped but I didn't have any nail polish remover with which to remove it and then repaint it.

A few days ago, I purchased some nail polish remover. It leaked in the car, so the car smelled rather nasty for all of three seconds before the windows were down and it was being aired out. We got home and I realized I didn't have any cotton wool balls.

I sighed the sigh of one heavy with annoyance.

"What's wrong, sweet child of mine?" Mamala asks. (Of course I am completely exaggerating how the question was actually asked, but I like this question better than the boring old, What's wrong?)

"I didn't buy any cotton wool balls!" I sigh.

The following day, D decides to head to the grocery store to pick up some necessities, not the least of which is corn chips and salsa. Oh and ground beef for tacos that night.

"You need anything from the store babes?" he asks.

"No I'm good." Pause. Longer pause. "OH WAIT! YES! I need cotton wool balls."

He heads out, I take a nap with the munchkin because the last few days she's been fussy due to the damned Nilstat we've had to give her. He comes home, WITH the cotton balls, among all the other things he purchased.

So now... Do you think I've removed the chipped and peeled nail polish from my nails? No. No I have not. And why? Because I'm lazy. So very, very lazy.

Also, Mamala and I went op-shopping today and I bought many books. I now have enough reading material to last me about 2 weeks.