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Browsing Tag: new mom

Because, Expectant Moms, I Know Stuff

I asked Cian’s doctor this week when he’d give me the okay to start weaning him. “You can wean whenever you want,” he said. Not a help, doc. Not a help. I have about a month a half until Cian turns one (?!?!), which means, in the Leah Land of Breastfeeding and All Things Lactation, I have about two months left of nursing.  I’m ready, as much as I say I’m not ready. I mean, of course I’ll miss the quiet moments, and the mommy-and-me time before bed. But once this baby’s old enough to help himself, I’m outta there. Milk cart, empty. Lactation Station, shut down. No more being hot all the time, and chugging bottles of water (ha, ha! You didn’t think I was going to say “water,” did you? Fooled you!), and the constant hunger (all the time, and everything, just gimme the FOOD). Now it’s straight on through to…menopause. Oh, nevermind. Maybe breastfeeding’s not so bad, after all. I was thinking back, though, on all the stuff related to…

I Yam What I Yam, After All

I was at Saorise’s MyGym class today feeling a little frazzled. We’re all getting over a hurricane-force cold, and now that I can move my head about without weeping from the pressure, I’m realizing that Easter is in a few days, and spiritual readiness aside, I’ve got cleaning to do. And shopping. And cooking. And…you get the idea. Especially if you’ve ever hosted a major holiday get-together for your family when you have teeny tiny children running about (or scooting, or nursing, or napping when you need to be shopping…), you know that even if you’re the most laid-back of individuals (secret, please?), there’s some work to be done.  Unless you’re this very nice woman I know–I’ll call her Nancy. She’s the mom of one of the boys in SK’s class, and I know her from the gym (my gym, not MyGym). Nancy was telling me today that she’s all ready for Easter, though there “are some last-minute things” that will need to be done…

Slow Down, Will You?

“Hey, Saoirse, could you please go to the bathroom and wash your hands?” I’m changing Quinn’s diaper as I say this, getting the girls ready before I set about doing the peeling and chopping of wee bits, gathering of yogurt (I think there’s a small farm somewhere in Vermont specially set up just for our family’s consumption of dairy. I should probably start sending regular tips in the mail) and other assorted yes-it’s-healthy-but-man-it-takes-forever-to-prepare items we call lunch around here.  Saoirse’s lounging in the glider, feet propped up on my leg, talking to me about Blanket’s latest adventures. This, as one would expect, is way more fun than going to the bathroom. “Noooo,” she says, with a slight, defiant whine to her voice. “I don’t waaaannnt to.”  “Saoirse,” I sigh. “We’re eating now. I need you to get ready.” Off she trudges to the bathroom, eyeballing Quinn and me the whole way to ensure we’re not doing something gloriously fun while she…