Nipples And Poop

For those of you out there that have had the pleasure of pumping breastmilk- have you ever noticed how gross your nipple looks when you take it out of the breast pump?  Every single time I take my poor boob out of that pump I just look at the sad, hamburger meat nipple and think to myself- MY GOD! At first I was in denial- that is not my nipple; then bargaining- just let me get through this year and please go back to normal; then anger- stupid breastpump ruining my once nice nipples; then sadness- my poor, poor nipples they will never be the same, who cares anymore; and then finally acceptance- you know what, this process of pumping and nipple mutilation feeds my baby and allows me to have time to myself. There you have it, the stages of grieving your nipples. Ha nipple, what a funny word.

A pretty picture to erase the mental image I just created!

A pretty picture to erase the mental image I just created!

This week I had the joy of learning what it is like to take care of a baby while you yourself are sick. I managed to “classically overachieve” and get both the flu and strep throat. Now I am no stranger to the joys of vomiting, but I had not had the pleasure of vomiting through razor blades- joy of new joys! I felt like I was going to die and I could not lay in bed and feel sorry for myself because Everly was not sick (thank goodness) and she wanted to play as per usual. I could almost see the disgust on her face when my usual zest for daytime songs was not there- she was all like “mom don’t perform with hollow, joyless eyes, who do you take me for?” I thought being sick sucked before, but oh no being sick with a baby sucks way more- those of you who have been there will agree with me I am sure.

Once more with feeling mom!

Once more with feeling mom!

Everly started saying that “da-da” sound last week. She was playing with Brandon and yelling at him as usual as he was tickling her, then she switched to a calmer babble and out came da-da a whole bunch of times. His face lit up like it does when he sees a bag of sour patch kids, he was in heaven. Of course she has no idea what da-da means, I shared this much with him too, but she makes the sound so the meaning can’t be that far away and I think that’s where the excitement is really coming from. Pretty soon she is going to be able to speak to us and we are going to be able to understand her- wow how amazing is that going to be. I remember when I was excited that she had started to coo, this babyhood thing is fleeting, it’s sad.  

Da da's girl in her football shirt!

Da da's girl in her football shirt!

I have noticed that once you become a parent you become something of a poop pervert; you just get so obsessed with poop. I blame the health care professional that gives you the spiel about the colour your baby’s poop should be and how often and texture and all that fun stuff, so right off the bat you are on poop watch. B and I used to have conversations about poop 10 times a day. Now I would say it’s down to at least once, unless there is a major poopesode (like when she filled her sleepers so much the poop was nearly coming down her arms- lucky daddy got that one!). You even talk about poop with your friends. I used to talk about travel and sunglasses and movies and celebrities with my friends- now we talk about poop and sore nipples. I think poop continues to be a fascinating topic for parents because it’s always changing and is a major indicator for what may be going on with your baby- we all become well meaning poop perverts. I guess it’s another thing that I can add to the list of things I never thought would pique my interest and likely this is only the beginning because after this comes potty training!

Cute little poop machine!

Cute little poop machine!


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