My big girl! Peanut’s been busy growing, y’all…
Quite a lot happens when you’re away from the blog. My hiatus wasn’t about anything more than wanting to spend some serious loving-up time with the girl and not blogging about every little adorable thing that she was doing every moment of the day. That’s what mommy-bloggers do (not that there’s anything wrong with that); there are a glut of cute blogs out there showcasing baby beans sporting hilariously sweet micro-fashion and doing hilariously sweet (and sometimes disgustingly funny) things.
When I found out about Peanut’s Trisomy 21 diagnosis, I wanted this blog to be a resource to other parents who might be going through the same thing. But once she was born, I found that, for the most part, she more more “typical” than not…she didn’t have any major health or feeding issues, her growth and development were on track, and she ate, slept and pooped like any other kid. Down Syndrome really didn’t come into play, and I felt as though the blog wasn’t serving its original purpose.
So I stopped blogging. Continue reading
Lookit that face. Does this look like a little boy to you?
I suppose that because I am her mother, I can absolutely see that Peanut is a little girl. However, when I dress her in gender-neutral colours – green, yellow or grey in particular – people have a hard time ascertaining whether she’s male or female.
I don’t really ascribe to the pink for girls/blue for boys ideal; in fact, pink is not really a colour I like, and I have very little of it (one or two items, max) in my own wardrobe. Peanut happens to look good in it – and while I frequently dress her in whatever pink items she happens to own, I tend to buy clothing in other colours.
It’s hard, though, finding lovely little girls’ clothes that don’t look as though they lost a fight with a bottle of Pepto Bismol. And if the items aren’t pink, they’re ruffled, frilled and ruched to within an inch of their lives. What is the deal with tutus for little girls? And headbands with bows? And sequins? Why?
I put the wee one in a hoodie and jeans the other day, and my mother squawked that I was dressing the child like a thug. I thought she looked positively adorable! She’s usually in pants or a sleeper, anyway, so I wasn’t quite sure what the fuss was about. Continue reading
The way I were – fuzzy, but fit.
So, uh…I hate my post-partum body.
Two months and five days after having had Peanut, I am mostly back to my original size, but the body I once had (and loved) is a lumpy, misshapen shadow of its former self.
Where do I begin? I haven’t any stretch marks, but my stomach looks like a deflated black balloon, sagging and dark after having been stretched and distended for the better part of nine months. My thighs, once strangers, now chafe and rub like two sticks making a fire. And at least once or twice a week, someone comments on how much wider my hips have become. While I have never been busty, I loved my pre-baby A-cups (and my A+ cups during), but in such a short span of time, regular pumping/hand-expressing have already taken their toll. Once firm and perky, my feeders are now kind of squishy and a little bit sad-looking.
Nothing fits. I still can’t squeeze into my clothes pre-Aisha, but all of my pregnant-sized attire is either too big or too loose. My c-section scar alternately throbs and stings, so anything that fits at my waist or lower is out.
But it’s not just the *visible* after-effects of pregnancy that have me down. Continue reading
Apple of my eye.
Peanut is now about 10, 10 and a half pounds, and isn’t quite as easy to cradle her in my arms as it once was. When she was a six- or seven-pounder, I would hold her close and wrap her tightly in this marled grey sweater that I wear around the house.
The other day I was trying to get her to sleep; she’s quite squirmy now and wriggles a lot before nodding off. Just as her eyelids began to droop, I pulled the sweater around her and started rocking her slowly. I thought I detected a small smile (becoming more frequent these days), and it gave me a chuckle. Continue reading
Gonna have to ask my doc about this salty discharge that’s been leaking from my eyes.
I’m a bundle of hormones lately. Got my first period since getting pregnant, and it has thrown me into another existential tailspin. I am sweaty. I am ravenous. I am retaining water. But most of all, I am SUPER emotional. I mean really, I can’t stand myself right now; I literally cannot handle all of life’s feels and I find myself busting a #thugcry at anything remotely sweet or touching.
To wit: I was watching Ellen the other day, and she had audience members participate in blindfolded musical chairs. The last girl standing (sitting?) won a great prize package…and then Ellen – with her generous ol’ self – ended up giving the losers the same prize as well. They were elated, jumping up and down, hugging each other, I laughed along with their joy, then all of a sudden someone started cutting onions in the room and I had to change the channel.
Peanut and I were hanging with the boy yesterday, and he reminded me that this May will be the first time I am a Mother’s Day giftee, as opposed to gifter…Totally stoked. Ha! He knows how to spoil a sista when the occasion calls for it, so I. Can’t. Wait. (Listen, he’s totally got the clean end of the stick when it comes to this whole parenthood thing. The one who wipes the poop gets the gift. Rules is rules.)
Speaking of salty discharge and special occasions, a friend of mind posted this link on Facebook and I completely lost it at the end. Here’s the write up and, peep the video after the jump.
Enjoy! Continue reading
Hello, it’s been a while. Have you missed us?
Whew! I’ve been terribly delinquent. Being a new mommy is exhausting. This post has been in the works for over a week now…I sneak in edits while Peanut naps, and I hope I can finally finish before she wakes again for a feeding. I always knew children – babies in particular – required a lot of time and energy, but I had no idea just how much. Like the title of my blog suggests, there isn’t any guide to having kids…I’m learning as I go, and so far, so good.
Aisha will be seven weeks old on Wednesday, and while I missed blogging about the first month mini-celebration her father and I threw for her, I can certainly post some pics. :) My mother teased us for being so treacly, but after what we’d been through with my pregnancy, and then the delivery (I know, I know, I’ll blog about it soon, I promise), it was our way of saying, “hooray, she’s here! Now let’s all drink some beer!” Continue reading