Tag Archives: breastfeeding

The rejuvenating power of cuddles

Simon and I are both wearing our crankypants today.  Simon because he’s been prodded and messed with all afternoon, me because I’ve spent all day in happyfun smiley nurturing mode (y’all know how I mean), and all I really want is to just be left the fuck alone for 5 minutes.  I think this blogging counts towards those 5 minutes (Simon is conked out upstairs for the moment) so I should probably quit my bitching and get on with it.

 

 

So anyway.  We had a pretty mellow weekend.  Sarah came over and watched Simon while I went to a happy hour with Jeff and his co-workers on Friday night.  It’s always so nice to get out for an hour or two, even if it’s just to drink Diet Coke and eat pub popcorn shrimp.  Sarah actually came early enough that I could sneak upstairs and sew for a bit, which was nice.  Who would have thought it’s easier to be productive when one isn’t constantly being interrupted to play baby fetch or applaud another round of shape-sorting?

 

Saturday was pretty low-key.  We had the Olympics on in the background all day, of course, and Jeff had a work brunch at an amazing cafe up in Cuyahoga Falls (spoiler: I’m about to make him take me there next weekend :-D), then we ran a couple errands.  Since Simon is all about being my sous chef lately, I decided he needed an apron to match his new role.  So I got some medium-weight denim and this pattern at JoAnn:

(The one on the far right for him; I may make the second from left for myself sometime)  It’s got an adjustable neck (where the neck and waist straps are one long piece of fabric threaded through channels on the sides of the chest) so should grow with him for a few years.

 

Yesterday we got some surprise! snow, about 5-6″ worth, so we stayed in all day.  Our Elantra just does NOT handle snow well (apparently a known issue for new Elantras), and literally every time we go on an unplowed road we’re guaranteed to get stuck.  If we end up in a wintry city then I’m sure we’ll invest in some snow tires, but for this year we just play weenie and don’t venture out until everything’s plowed.   And it only took me half a dozen times getting stuck on our own street to reach that conclusion.

 

I mentioned that Simon has had a bit of a rough day today.  We had to go to  the outpatient lab at Children’s to get some bloodwork done (our ped wants a routine hemoglobin and iron check).  When I had my hcg checks at the General hospital’s lab, both times I just walked in, waited a few minutes and was taken care of.  Easy peasy.  But when we showed up at the Children’s lab, the place was hoppin’.  We waited almost an hour just to get signed in.  By the time they actually called us back, Simon had just about used up his reserves of “good”.  Then of course there was the whole issue of stabbing his widdwe finger and extracting two tiny vials of blood.  He was NOT a happy chicken.  Even the Hot Wheels that a nurse gave us was no good.  Poor Simes.  When the nurses (it took two to get the job done, plus me holding him on my lap) were done, we retreated to the waiting room for some booby and calm-down time before heading home.   Where, of course, he conked out almost immediately: But sadly it didn’t last (so much for my 5 minutes), so here’s our present configuration:

And snuggles and human-pacifier-ing are A-OK with me right now.  It’s 5:30 and I can’t bear to wake him, which I’m sure I’ll regret at bedtime, but for now it’s great 🙂

 

Time to wake him for real, though, and go get Daddy!  That should cheer us both up. 🙂

Happy Thursday!

We’ve had a busy couple of days  Luckily it was mostly fun-busy, less stress-busy (though our bum of a property manager still isn’t answering my calls/emails.  GRR.)

 

On Tuesday I hung up my chalkboard (finally!).  This gives me such a happy.

It’s only been OVER A YEAR, JESUS CHRIST!  (There was no space to hang it in our LA kitchen, so it lived propped in a corner of the office/craft room for a year.)

 

How stinkin’ wonderful is that?  I am so in love.

 

Then Simesie boy and I made some cookies:

to foist upon Jeff’s unsuspecting co-workers.  They are good.  Because duh.

 

And we built a fort:

The only thing more fun than building a fort is knocking it down!

 

Yesterday I came down with the type of cold that leaves you cranky and low-energy, but isn’t severe enough to actually lay you up.  So I pressed onward in our daily activities, snotting and coughing all the way.  Sexy!

 

A while back I joined an Akron-area kids’ clothing sale group on Facebook, and yesterday it finally paid off.  A woman was selling a toddler-sized Yoda costume, so we ran over to Stow and picked it up after dropping Jeff at work.

 

Simon didn’t think much of the headgear 😛

Ah well.  He’s got 6 weeks to get used to it. 😀

 

In the meantime, I need to find some cargo pants at a thrift store for Jeff, and hem and dye an old t-shirt for him.  BECAUSE THIS:

 

Babywearing Halloween FTW! 😛

 

I also installed our clothesline yesterday.  One step closer to a dream come true!

That was the second time using my drill, in as many days.  (Wow awkward phrasing much?)  With any luck, our forever home will have a real clothesline on posts, but a retractable spool clothesline is better than no clothesline at all!

 

This weekend I’m going to get a couple things at Home Depot and work on winterizing the yard.  That dirt strip by the driveway is unappealing looking, but shady almost all day.  Any ideas what I should plant (maybe in the spring)?

 

This morning Simes and I headed out to one of those three-days-only consignment sales down in Canton.  He needed a coat and a few more pyjamas (seems like I’m always buying that kid pyjamas!), and I, as always, maintained a faint hope that I might find a gorgeous woven wrap tucked into a pile of baby blankets or something.

 

I’m sure you can figure out how well that last bit worked. 😛

 

The sale wasn’t the best I’ve ever been to, but it wasn’t bad.  I found the items on my list, but then I saw a giant Enfamil booth:

And the formula-pusher lady was talking to that mom in purple.  She said, “Are you breastfeeding?”  (Mom nodded)  “Good for you!  Just in case it stops working, take this.  It’ll be a huge help and really lift the burden!” And then she shoved a big shiny tote bag of formula and crap at this family.  THIS is the kind of stuff that pisses me off to no end.  It undermines a perfectly healthy breastfeeding relationship.  Not all breastfeeding mamas are educated about the dangers of formula, and not all of them will understand the negative effects of formula.  Plus, who doesn’t love free stuff?  By calling breastfeeding a “burden” and paying lip service to supporting the mama, the Enfamil rep was worming her way into the family’s awareness and trust.

 

Seriously, formula marketing sickens me.  It’s one thing if a family needs to use formula, or makes an educated decision to choose it, but it’s another thing completely when the companies pretend that they’re supporting breastfeeding while actually deceptively promoting their inferior product.

 

I thought about whipping a boob out right there, or claiming an open booth for an impromptu breastfeeding support station, but I made the mistake of calling Jeff and telling him about my brilliant plan and he talked me out of it.  Something about not wanting to have to come to Canton and bail me out of prison.  IDK.   Meanie.

 

I need to shut up now.  It’s making me too mad to think about.

 

Anyway.  In addition to a coat and a couple shirts and some jams, I also found this little bit of wonderfulness:

Grey. Wool. Tweed. Sportcoat.  WITH ELBOW PATCHES!!!  I am dead.

 

I’ll try to take a picture of him wearing it after he wakes up from his nap here.  Warning: it will be blurry 😀

 

Finally, MY MY MY MY MY hydrangea.  MINE!

I may have to try and dry that, as Kathy suggested.  Isn’t it just unbearably gorgeous?!

 

Hope you’re having an excellent week!

Laying low

After all of yesterday’s running around, Simon and I have stayed home today.  He made his wishes to that effect apparent when he took a 2 1/2 hour nap, from 9:30 to 12:00.  Little dude was tuckered out!

 

Yesterday evening we picked Jeff up from the train station and went up to this Mexican restaurant in Pasadena that we really like: El Portal.  Their fried fish tacos are the bomb-diggity!  And Jeff gets this carne burrito that’s essentially just a side of beef wrapped in a tortilla.  Massive.  Disgusting.  But he likes it.

 

The past two nights we’ve done something different for Simon’s bedtime, that’s actually worked out sorta well.  Our old routine (outlined in exhausting detail last week, if you care) was getting really frustrating for me.  Simon now likes to flip from boob to boob when he’s tired and avoiding sleep, culminating in biting me and whining once they’re empty and he’s not asleep.  So my new plan to put a stop to THAT shit has consisted of putting the boobs away, then pinning his arms down and doing the rocking back-and-forth and humming thing that I do when I’m wearing him into a nap.  Wednesday night the novelty of it was enough that he conked right out, but last night he struggled mightily (including several attempts to bite my boob through my bra/shirt.  Eewwwwouuuuchhhh!)  After he fell asleep from rocking, though, he startled awake a few minutes later and I ended up boobing him back down.  So we’ll see what happens tonight.  I still prefer boobing right up until he sleeps (because once he drops off he’ll usually sleep-nurse long enough to stimulate a second let-down), but I’m also a fan of keeping my nipples attached to my body, lol.  Nursing a big kid is a whole different game than nursing a tiny baby!  We still love it though 🙂

 

Yesterday evening I was thinking longingly of my long-neglected knitting, and all of a sudden I was struck by the undeniable urge to cast on for a pair of striped stockinette knee socks.  So I entered the blue room (which is where we’re keeping all our packed boxes) and climbed Empty Box Mountain to reach the far-flung Yarn Stash Binland:

And dug out a local handdye (La Jolla “Baah”) and some Fiberphile that I’ve had since the Great Stashbinge of 2011.  And then I fell asleep, because it was 10:00 an I am old.

 

But this morning!  While Simon slumbered on the couch next to me, I painstakingly HAND-WOUND both of these hanks (and the Fiberphile was more than a little knotty, I don’t mind telling you), since my swift and ballwinder are also buried and we got rid of the lamp with a shade that was perfect for an impromptu swift.

 

And I’m about to cast on in a minute here, if Simon will stay engaged with his toy piano and push-walker long enough for me to cast on 88 stitches and join in the round without twisting 😉

 

This afternoon – I’m posting here, so you’ll hold me to it! – I have got to work on packing.  Tea said she should be able to watch Simon for a bit, and that’d be great – it would give me the chance to get started on the kitchen.  Packing the kitchen is so deceptive – everything’s tucked away in cabinets, so it doesn’t look like *that* much, but then you’ve gotta wrap everything, and …buh.  It’s a lot.

 

The good news is that I put together a whole ‘nuther box of stuff for Goodwill.  Mostly Jeff’s stuff :-P.

 

Happy Friday!

 

(PS – did you know that though Pyrex is incredibly durable, when it breaks it shatters magnificently into exceptionally pointy little grains of glass?  And that then you have to not only sweep and vacuum up the shards, but also go over the entire floor with strips of packing tape?  There.  Now you know.  So you won’t feel compelled to break any and find out the hard way.  You’re welcome.)

New Leaf: Day 2?

It felt weird to open up WordPress two days in a row.   And yet, here I am.  LOOK AT ME SELF-IMPROVING, Y’ALL!

 

I’ll take all the accolades you can spare. 😛

 

So yesterday ended up being a wash.  Right after I finished writing, Simon wanted boob.  And then he fell asleep on me, which meant I was stuck until he woke up.  So I farted around online (thank you Reddit and Pinterest!) and when he woke up, we headed up to Tea’s to hang out a bit.  I took up my last bottle of that really good Trader Joe’s Moscado, but she didn’t feel like splitting it with me so she just made me a pineapple rum punch (with fresh-ground nutmeg!  Mmmm) and listened to my tale of woe, lol.

 

Meanwhile, Simon was scooting around on the floor eating raw baby carrots, and Ella was offering him all her toys, in turn, to play with.  I love watching those two play!  I also got a really cute picture of the two of them together, but Tea doesn’t like pictures of Ella going online so I won’t share it.  But trust me.  CUTENESS.

 

…OK I just got back in from a 20-minute break in the bedroom to boob Simon back down.  He’s actually napping really well this morning!  He’s all tired out from yesterday’s excitement I guess :-\

 

Anyway, after we left Tea’s, Jeff asked us to come pick him up at work, so we headed downtown for that.  I love driving to downtown during rush hour(s) when everybody else is fleeing.  It makes me feel like such a rebel! 😛  The stress of yesterday morning finally caught up with me though, and on the way home all of a sudden I was like, “I am so done with today.  Just done.”  So we ran through the Taco Bell drive-through for some white trash comfort food (lol) and I went to bed as soon as I’d gotten Simon down.

 

If you follow me on Twitter, you might’ve seen me mention our elaborate baby bedtime ritual.  So here, in >140 characters, is the thing:  Simon is a really really really ridiculously light sleeper.  REALLY LIGHT.  So every night, Jeff gets him ready for bed and we read a story and turn on the white noise app on my iPad.  (Best $0.99 I ever spent.).  Then I lay in bed with him and boob him down.  Once he’s out, I text Jeff to come move him to the co-sleeper.  Jeff takes the collar off the dog (so she can’t wake him with its quiet jingle), then he steals into the bedroom on tiptoe.  We gently roll Simon from the boob onto Jeff’s outstretched hands, then Jeff carefully walks (avoiding the breeze of the window fan) to the co-sleeper, where he slowly lowers Simon down, watches to make sure his eyes don’t open, then geeeeeeently covers him with a light blanket.  And then I have about 45 minutes to do whatever I want, before he wakes up for more boob.

 

In the night – usually after his second wakeup, but sometimes after his first if he stays out long enough – I drag him into bed and he spends the rest of the night latched on and cuddling (or sometimes snuggled up against Jeff).  That’s my favorite.  I love co-sleeping 🙂

 

All that ceremony for bedtime, and you know what Simon does when it’s naptime and we’re out running around or I’m doing housework?  He just crashes on my back, O-U-T.  This is one attached kid!  As long as he knows where his next meal is coming from, he can sleep anywhere.

 

An abbreviated, completely true and non-exaggerated list of things that have awoken Simon abruptly from a sound sleep:

1)Roxie stretching and flapping her ears

2)Jeff popping open a soda can from the living room

3)Us quietly sneaking into bed and pulling back the covers

4)The spine of a book cracking

5)The sound of our phones vibrating when we plug them in

6)Macbeth leaping onto the bed

7)Our next-door neighbor flushing the toilet (thin walls)

8)The fridge door opening or microwave beeping

 

I AM NOT KIDDING.

 

Shortly after we get to Akron (long enough after that it’s not extra stressful for him, but soon enough that he doesn’t get completely settled into our old routine), we’re going to start the gradual process of moving him into his own room.  We’re going to try a Montessorti floor bed.  That’s essentially just a plain twin-sized mattress on the floor, in a completely child-proof room.  I’ll start out trying to get him to nap in there sometimes, the same way we do now (boobs + sneaking away).  After a while we’ll try it for bedtime too, fully expecting that he’ll end up in bed with us each night.  Ideally I’d like to have him mostly in his own room by about his second birthday, but we’ll see how it goes.  I’m not in any hurry to stop nursing him down to sleep, but I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t be nice for him to be able to put himself back to sleep when he wakes up.  We’ll get there someday 🙂

 

We drove Jeff to work this morning, and stopped by the store on the way home to use up a gift card that he got for his birthday.  I felt like some retail therapy but didn’t want to spend money.  So I got him an annoying noise-making remote thingy (Ella has one and he loves it).  He started fussing on the way home so I tossed it back to him, and he just started chewing on the cardboard packaging.  Way to spend $9, eh?  😛  But he’s playing with it now, so here’s at least 2 minutes of entertainment from the silly thing.  After today I think I’ll put it away until the long drive, because I’m a masochist and I think there’s nothing Linda and I will enjoy more than hearing “1-2-3, count with me!” in a chirpy, tinny voice for 700 miles, lol.  (Don’t be surprised if this ends up chucked out on the roadside somewhere around Indianapolis)

 

I took a picture of him playing with it here, but he just looks disheveled and befuddled, so I’ll spare you.  I only want you to see my progeny at his best. 😛

 

Anyway, he needs some grownup food now so I should get movin’.  Time to prepare a nutritious and delicious lunch for him to throw on the floor. Yay, baby-led weaning! 😀

 

I’ll end with one of my favorite recent pictures.  This was at the train place on Sunday:

Simon Hoops: future DDS?

 

Until next time!  (dare I say, “tomorrow”???)

 

PS> Remind me to tell you about the crafting I’ve been doing in my precious little free time, eh?

Standing up for our rights is HARD

On Saturday, for the first time in nearly 8 months of proudly nursing in public, someone tried to tell me not to feed my baby.

We were having lunch in the dining room at my grandparents’ retirement home.  Grandmother, Mom, Dad, my aunt and uncle, Simon and me.  I was nursing Little Dude as we waited for our food to arrive.  He was looking around at all the blue-hairs at surrounding tables, his eyes fairly rolling backwards to see all the interesting stuff around him with his mouth full of delicious boob.  A veritable sea of oldsters gazed from afar and – in some cases – came to our table just to tell Grandmother how precious her little great-grandson is.  And there was mushroom and leek soup.   It was all quite nice.

So imagine my surprise when a staff member came up to us and told me that I couldn’t nurse Simon there or at least needed to cover up; that “there are males present! You are being offensive.”. When I calmly informed her that I would not, that Missouri statute expressly provides me the right to breastfeed in public, she turned to my grandmother and said “I just can’t allow this here, Jewell.  I can’t allow it.”

 

I wanted to dig a hole in the ground and crawl in.

 

I’ve imagined something like that happening before.  The first few times I plugged his scream-hole while out shopping, or snuggled him in for a nurse-y nap in a restaurant, I thought about how I’d respond if someone tried to infringe upon our rights.  Turns out that – like many other events in life –  reality was a little bit different than imagination. 

I was sitting there at the table in the corner (unsuccessfully) holding back tears while this woman tried to tell me not to feed my baby, barely standing up for what I knew was right.  After her futile (and wholly inappropriate) supplication to Grandmother, the server stalked off.  I was seeing fire, shaky with adrenaline, and – for the first time – ashamed about feeding my baby.  Of course, my family was none too pleased, either.  My mom (who breastfed two babies in the ’80’s when “that just isn’t what nice people do”) immediately stood up to take me out so I wasn’t stuck crying in the corner, and Dad was hot on her heels.  My aunt (who breastfed two babies in the ’70’s when “that really just isn’t what nice people do”) hastened our speedy retreat, and waited to help settle the check.

I was so happy that they were all livid on my behalf, and so supportive of me.

Mom immediately went to the reception desk to get the name of the woman’s supervisor.  The woman followed us there and started her argument again, with an extra dose of patronization:  “Listen, sweetie…”.  (Mom says I told her “Don’t ‘sweetie’ me!” but I don’t even remember saying that; I was so mad.).  She didn’t want to give us her supervisor’s info, so Mom began informing her exactly how illegal her actions were while I got the supervisor’s name and number from the receptionist.

A few minutes later, back in Grandmother’s apartment, Simon was playing on the floor happily and we were sitting around feeling helpless and infuriated.  A knock on the door, and a nurse supervisor from the assisted living wing (where Granddad lives) came in for a chat.

She was exceedingly kind, compassionate, helpful, apologetic, and empathetic.  A nursing mother herself, she apologized repeatedly for the woman’s actions and stressed just how inappropriate they were – as well as how they actively contradicted state law and facility policy.  She made sure that I had the woman’s supervisor’s info, and offered again her sincere apologies for the whole dustup.  If it weren’t for her, I would’ve been on a personal vendetta against the retirement home.  But because of her kindness and understanding, I was just pissed as hell at that woman as an individual.

When Granddad came in and Grandmother filled him in, he was upset about the whole thing too.  Who wants to hear that their granddaughter and great-grandson were treated so poorly as guests in their home?  But after texting furiously with my legal representation (heh) and rehashing the incident with my family, and that great reassurance from the nurse supervisor, I was significantly less fired up than I’d been just half an hour ago 😀

Since I went to all the trouble to get her supervisor’s info, this morning I followed through and called him to issue a formal complaint about that woman.  It was an incredibly productive conversation.  And, it turns out the supervisor’s wife is nursing their baby and is a lactation activist herself, so he found it personally – as well as professionally – horrifying.

This is where it gets good, and why I’m so happy with the ultimate outcome:  in addition to disciplinary action against that woman, her supervisor also assured me that all facility staff will receive formal training about breastfeeding law and the organization’s own (existing but apparently unpublicized) support policy.  Though the issue clearly doesn’t come up much in a place with an average age of 110 (give or take a year :-P), he was very eager to emphasize the importance of supporting nursing mothers and babies: not just because of Missouri statute, but as an issue of company policy and guest service.  The supervisor apologized profusely and repeatedly for the whole situation, and seemed genuinely as upset as we were that it occurred at all.

For my part, I explained that I wasn’t out to sue anybody for infringing on my rights: I just wanted the staff to be educated so this wouldn’t happen in the future – to me or to anybody else’s granddaughter (or whoever).  Personally, I can recover from the embarrassment of the moment and will gladly forgive and forget, if it means that no visitor ever has to be treated like that again.  As in all things, I really feel like education is key.  I hope that by having a positive conversation with him rather than going in guns a’blazing, my arguments were more effective.

And speaking of education?  The supervisor promised me that that woman will never be able to call a guest “sweetie” or try to make anybody eat with a blanket over their head ever again 😉

“Ain’t nobody gonna try and take MY boob!”

The moral of the story?  Sometimes it’s surprisingly hard to stand up for your rights.  But by being firm and forthright, and with the support of your family (and the law!), it’s really possible to get things done.  Because baby’s gotta eat!

~~~

I’ve specifically left out the facility’s name in the above, because I really don’t want to spread negative attention on what was overall a positive situation.  They have provided our family with exceptional service these past few years, and I’m fully confident that the next time we visit, Simon will be able to eat his lunch whenever and wherever he chooses.

 

PS> Ironically, that happened just days after this most excellent post started circulating.  Please go read it, and share with your friends!

Revenge is a dish best served partially-digested

It all started the Sunday before last, when Jeff wanted to grab  some Subway on our way home from some errands (getting our holiday pictures taken and taking Simon to his first movie, if you’re curious).  Jeff ordered his favorite sandwich made of extruded pink slime:

(source)

Unsurprisingly, an hour and a half later he started feeling unwell.  Not too long after that, he started feeling particularly unwell. And moments later, Jeff’s body began expressing just how unwell he really felt, through a form of interpretive dance called “projectile vomiting”.

(The location, extent and manner of this vomiting is irrelevant to this story, but let me assure you that he can no longer possibly harbor any doubts about how much I love him.)

Later that night I ran to Target to fetch the standard “sick stuff”:  some Diet 7-up and ibuprofen, as well as a pack ‘n play for Simon to sleep in next to me on the couch, so we could leave Jeff in  quarantine  peace in the bedroom.  As luck would have it, while we were turning out of the Target parking lot to go home some jackhole decided that turn signals are highly overrated.  Said jackhole also decided it would be fun to turn abruptly in front of my car, thus causing his car’s front bumper to sweetly kiss mine in a sloppy smack of metal and plastic.

Because everybody wants to stand around making police reports and exchanging insurance information at 9:00 on a Sunday evening when one’s husband is at home puking up everything he ever ate.

The next day I occupied myself with composing numerous angry letters inside my head to the villainous Subway franchise-owner who had cursed us so and idiotic drivers of crappy Nissan Altimas, all the while keeping Jeff’s soda full and stuffing bits of white bread down his throat as he recovered.

Jeff, meanwhile, held that this sudden illness, which had struck just after eating a sandwich of dubious origin, could have been caused by an unrelated virus.  Surely his beloved Subway would not betray him so!  Never in a million years.

It all played out pretty much like this:

See Marge’s look? That’s me.  Only less yellow and even more dubious.

With Jeff on the mend by Tuesday, our week resumed its normal activities.  I made us an abridged version of Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday,we Skyped with my parents and Simon played with the mirror baby to their delight, and all was well.  A continued bastion of health, I felt thoroughly vindicated in my indictment of that damned sandwich as the cause of Jeff’s misery.

(Y’all know where this is going…)

On Friday I took the car to a Geico-approved repair shop, then stopped by the post office on my way home.  While in line, I started to feel just a bit…icky.  Since denial is a large and ugly beast, I pressed onward through my morning’s chores, but at noon I finally succumbed to the siren song of bed and heavy-lidded misery.  I snuggled the baby in next to me, crammed a boob in his mouth, and fervently hoped that I was just imagining the rising tide of sickness.

No such luck, of course.  Soon I had to call Jeff home from work; I knew I was surviving on borrowed time.  He walked in the door just in time to see me launch myself, bare tits a’flyin’, toward the toilet to begin the retching, gagging song of defeat.  He grabbed Simon and retreated to the living room for an afternoon of a horrible game called “entertain the baby without using boobs”.

Friday night was mostly a blur.  I knew I had to keep drinking so that 1)my body would have something to puke up and 2)what little it might be able to retain could turn into milk for the LIVING BEING I HAD TO SUSTAIN.  So I mostly remember it as a grotesque torture theatre: Jeff looming over me with our household’s sick cup of Diet 7 up, forcing sips down my throat.  Simon fussing for attention and food, and Jeff situating him on my breast then snatching him out of the way every time I had to lunge yet again for the toilet.

It was super fun, let me tell you.

The good news with this particular strain of the plague, though, is that it departed nearly as quickly as it arrived.  I spent Saturday afternoon and Sunday on the couch, watching Doctor Who, rehydrating, and nursing.  Simon seems no worse for the wear and Jeff gets to enjoy that wonderful smugness that comes with a total reversal my former, insufferable vindication.  I’m pretty sure he plans to celebrate with another extruded chicken sandwich at lunch today.

Now we’re all chipper, bright eyed and rosy cheeked and ready to start the week.  Simon decided it would be superfun! to wake up at 7:00 this morning (after only 9 1/2 hours of sleep), so he’s now conked out on my lap while I write this. Which is why this post-about-nothing is so goddamn long – I can’t reach my phone, the TV remote, or even a fresh Diet Coke (somebody pass me a Diet Coke?).  Like hell I’m going to disturb a sleeping baby.

So fine, Jeff.  It wasn’t the damn sandwich.  Happy now?