shedding

I have a lot of hair. Pete used to have a lot of hair. We have three cats. Suffice to say that the house is pretty furry, and the vaccuum cleaner gets quite a work out. We are pretty used to it.

But I think I have now discovered why so many women who have long hair cut it short or shorter after they have a baby. It's not the grabbing little fingers or the barf, it's the shedding.

While you are pregnant, all the extra hormones and vitamins give you strong nails and luxurious hair. Once those hormones wear off, so do the strong nails and luxurious hair. Interestingly enough, I did not start to experience this effect until Finn was term, no matter that he had been on the outside since 6 months into his gestation and my pregnancy. There must be some sort of biological clock that is still timed to that 40 weeks, because I have been shedding a small dog every few days, and my nails have started breaking. I am not concerned about either of these things. Women don't go bald because of this, and I'll just cut the rest of my fingernails off once another one breaks. But the shedding, the constant tickling of stray hairs on the backs of my arms, the wads of long strands clinging to my clothes and sticking to the baby... those are irritating as... well, they are irritating as the thing that they actually are. There is no metaphor because nothing else--nothing trivial, at least--is bugging me this much.

Every time I get a shower and wash my hair which, granted, is not very often, I have a handful of hair left over, and every time I think "OK, that should take care of it." But no. It's so annoying that I am thinking about cutting almost all of it off, at least for the time being. It will grow back. Thing is, I am not on America's Next Top Model, and I don't have Tyra Banks telling me what to do, so I have no idea. I can't go too short; I really won't go above the collar bone unless something is super cute and won't make my head look like a pumpkin. I'd be willing to cut off enough to donate to a worthy cause. I just have to find a worthy do and summon the will to make that kind of change. I know I will still be shedding, but at least the strands won't be a foot long.

Dad is Awesome. The garments say so.

So far, we have received four garments extolling the virtues of Dad. "I love my daddy," "My Dad Rocks," "Daddy Rocks," and "Daddy's Little Cowboy" or some such nonsense.




hello?

Are dads so threatened by the relationship with the boob that they need reinforcement through fashion? I don't require tiny tee shirts for my boy that say "Mommy is awesome " or "Mommy's Little Prince" (blech) or "Mommy is feeling insecure about her role in this new family, so please prop her up with flannel niceties." No one is buying Finn onesies that say "Mommy carried me for six months, gave birth prematurely, agonized through ten weeks of hospital care, and is now a human dairy, and all I got was this lousy onesie."

But Dad?

Daddy rocks...

...while mommy stays at home and nurses, changes, bounces, rocks, swaddles, comforts, reads to, and generally entertains the offspring wearing the bitchin' "Daddy's Little Cowboy" sleeper.

missing malabrigo

I hate it when I put things away. Whenever I put something away, I can't find it when I want it. Right now, I am missing a bag of malabrigo (yarn), and I waaaant it. This has nothing to do with anything; certainly, no one reading this is going to be able to help me find it, and writing about it is not going to help me find it. I just feel like whining. I can only blame the baby by association: I am still dumb and scattered from pregnancy (apparently, this takes a long time to go away.) The next most likely culprit is The Husband, who insists that he would not have put yarn in the basement. Extra points to him for saying "the malabrigo?" when I pointed to a skein of it. No, I am sure it was me. I was getting organized after finishing projects and putting things away.

I should never do that.

diaper resources

There were some comments asking about diaper stuff, like the sprayer and the little fasteny bits.

I got a lot of my paraphernalia from a local store called "Peapods" and a lot from an online vendor called "Green Mountain Diapers." The sprayer we have is from "Bum Genius."

Of course, check into your locally-owned retailers first, but I have had great, fast service from Green Mountain. They were the only place I could find the preemie prefolds, and our local store did not have the newborn prefolds, either.

poor lefty

Reporting from the Office of Oversharing, Too Much Information Department:

Two nights ago, Lefty started hurting. It hurt so much, I could not hold Finn on my chest on the left, which I discovered was the side I favored. It was 5:00 a.m., and I was half asleep. I thought it was just a bit engorged, and maybe I should pump. I pumped. It did not help. When I got up later, I pumped again. This during a marathon feeding period. The pain was not abating by yesterday afternoon, and I began to suspect an infection. The sore area was red and hot to the touch. I was not running fever, but I don't think I am prone to them. When I had that urinary tract infection, my temp never went above 97.9. It was 97.7 last night and 97.5 this afternoon. I went to the lactation consultant today, and she confirmed what I already knew: mastitis. Which is just a fancy word for a boob infection.

What the hell?

Hormones, that's what the hell, if you ask me.

I have not had any sort of infection since I went off birth control pills way back in the 90's, when I had chronic yeast infections. They went away with the cessation of the medication. (So did the crazy, but that's another story.) Since Finn's birth, I have had two sparkly brand new infections, both in my naughty bits. I am sure that the medical community would tell me I am insane, but I think that elevated hormone levels make my body react differently to the presence of bacteria. Because the thing is, Finn has not missed feedings; he's been eating all the time. I have not been wearing underwire bras, and I have not since the girls got too big for their britches. I don't have anemia, and I don't feel abnormally stressed or fatigued (given the circumstances). So there does not seem to be a "reason why this happened." Nothing is really different, nothing that would indicate the cause of an infection. It was the same with the UTI.

Maybe elevated hormone levels make my brain come up with weird biological conspiracy theories.

Whichever way, Mama is back on the Sulfa. Ten days, four times a day.

Finn's weight on September 2: 6 pounds, 15 ounces
Finn's weight on September 11: 7 pounds, 10.5 ounces

To Knit or to Read, that is the question...

I didn't have a library card for years and years. There's no good reason for this as I love books, I love reading, and I am all for public libraries. I always thought that I needed to own books, in case I wanted to read them again, and this former English major also likes to write in them sometimes.

Then I met Pete, and one day, we went to the library to look at DVD's. We checked out a PBS special about partying Amish teens, and I thought "This is cool. I should have a library card." I promptly filled out the forms and was presented with my own purple St. Paul Public Library card. For over a year, I checked out and read book after book after book. I had at least ten books in my request queue at all times, and I knocked quite a few titles off my Amazon Wish List.

Then I learned how to knit.

It consumed all my reading time. A year and a half later, I still have not been able to strike a balance between the two interests. The click of the needles overcame the rustle of the turning page.

Now that Finn is here, reading has stepped even farther back into the shadowy recesses of HobbyLand, along with sewing, drawing, and general craftiness. There they all sit, grumbling, their pale eyes glinting out at me. "Remember us? We are the two shirts and three skirts you cut out two years ago. We are ready for the machine!" The comic book cover ideas are mouldering in a dank cupboard in the back of my mind, as is the calendar of maps I have wanted to complete for years.

While I did manage to catch up on my National Geograpics for a while there during breast pumping, even those have started to accumulate again. I can't seem to start a new book because my attention is constantly being diverted to the small being who needs to eat and eat and then eat some more and OH BOY he's eating again. I was perusing a lovely tome about maneating beasts, but I had to lay off of that as well because I found I was retracing my steps and forgetting what had happened in the preceding pages. I finally picked up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and started the series over again because I know what happens, it pleases me, and I can pick it up and put it down at random.

So I have been watching movie after movie as well as the entire Monty Python box set, and knitting while Finn sleeps on me (in between eatings). I guess I could be reading during those times, but for some reason, I prefer the voices in the films to the silence of the house, at least during the day. Pete has started bugging me to take walks because he can't sit in the house for more than a few hours without feeling claustrophobic. It's a good thing he's not me. But he's right about the walks. It's a good idea, it would be good for me, and the Little Man and I can get out of the house.

We walked to the library. Finn's not supposed to have a great deal of hand to hand contact with the outside world, but as long as he is in the sling and kept close to us, a few outings are fine. The library is just a few blocks away; long enough for a good little round trip jaunt but short enough so that we are not gone too long. I picked out some movies, paid my late fee, and Finn's alarm went off. That was awesome. It was a "loose lead", the one that sounds like a high pitched fire alarm. It just keeps going and going until you turn the damn thing off. One long, unbroken, brain-augering tone. When we got home, I switched out his lead wires and electrodes. I also logged into my account and requested a load of movies and TV programmes for my viewing pleasure. I am still not reading, but at least I am using my library card.

(Many thanks to Finn, who slept in the sling while I typed this)