Wow, has it been that long?

I am totally still alive.  Tired, yes, but alive.  That sleep training I mentioned?  Yeah, it's still going on.  Our young hero makes it until 5:30am, which I can live with, except when he doesn't.  Like last night, when he was awakened repeatedly by diarrhea.  Poor kid.  Sleep training goes out the window in such situations, obviously.  

Seb.astian is SO amused by So.ren, who is turning TWO in two days, which I can't believe.  Except when he says things like "You can't have it, Mommy!", brandishing his sippy cup, and I'm all like, "I didn't want your milk, sillypants."  His babysitter told me that, today, he went up to a dad who was at the playground, watching his kids while sitting on the seesaw, and So.ren, who wanted to play on said seesaw, proclaimed, "Excuse me, MAN."  Both polite and aggressive, my son.

I am still breastfeeding, if you can believe it.  I can't.  The reason, however, is the aforementioned 5:30 wakeup.  I take S.ebastian into bed with me and nurse him, thereby tricking us both into an extra hour of sleep.  It's not going to last, though, since I don't do much feeding/pumping otherwise, so things are drying up.  

In other news:

Mother's Day just happened, and I remembered how horribly it sucked, and I wanted to send good vibes to anyone who's still stuck in infertility hell.  

Speaking of infertility hell, my copy of Mel's book, Navigating the Land of IF arrived, and it is fabulous.  As you know, Mel is a great writer, and she's also so well informed that everything in the book seems correct to me.  Hallelujah!

Finally, there's been great news and bad news out there in our world lately.  I won't repeat the sad news because it's just too hard to bear.  And I won't repeat the good news because I tend to jinx people.  But both camps are on my mind these days.

Cutting back

Is this post about the recession?  Nope.  Well, I suppose it is, indirectly.  You see, it's time for me to get a full-time job, which means I need to undertake a job search.  And those job searches take a long time these days, so I'd better start now, even though my second child (whom my husband occasionally calls "the other one," apparently forgetting his name) is still young.  And starting now means that I don't have time to pump after every feeding.  Also, I hate the fucking pump.  We shouldn't overlook that.  So as of today I am pumping after the morning feeding, the 1pm feeding, before bed, and in the middle of the night.  

Did you guys see the article called "The Case Again.st Bre.astfeedin.g" in the current issue of The Atlantic?  It has gotten the Internet into a furor, but, personally, I found it to be a nice reality check.  And if you're a low-supply gal like me who goes to great, possibly insane lengths to breastfeed, it offers some good perspective.  Like that it might be better for me to spend time with my offspring than to be pumping all the time.

In other news, Seb.astian's sleep is kind of a catastrophe.  He's getting his ass sleep-trained next weekend.  I'm ruthless.

A quickie

I have other posts brewing, but this is just a quick one to give myself a pat on the back.  You see, today I ventured out with the infant, the toddler, AND the dog -- all at once.  The dog was really the problem, seeing as he's been driven from the brink of insanity into real insanity due to the excess of children and the dearth of walks in his life.  The infant and toddler were very well behaved.

How do people have more than two kids?

I mean, sure, maybe you get better at managing the chaos created by many children, but how do you handle the germ transmission?  I mentioned in my last post that Se.bastian was sick -- well, it turns out it's RSV.  I've been having to take him to the pediatrician every day for a checkup, but that's at least better than having him in the hospital.  He's lost a pound and his sleeping has gone to hell.  I've since heard from several friends that their second or third babies ended up in the hospital when they got RSV at a young age (from an older kid in the house).  Yikes.  FYI, you're supposed to take your baby to the doctor immediately if they get a cough.  And the treatment Se.bastian is getting now involves two things through a nebulizer.  He should get better this week, according to the doctor, though it could linger.  Meanwhile, So.ren has some other virus that is causing a fever -- I hope we avoid that in Seb.astian.  We are keeping them far, far apart and hoping that I am immune to whatever So.ren has.

I'm on zi.thromax for an ear infection and taking many anti-thrush precautions, such as probiotics galore.  Also, I change my nursing tanks frequently and wash off my chest with vinegar, causing me to smell vaguely like salad at all times.  Well, salad on top of maple syrup, since I am also taking fen.ugreek.  In short, I am a joy to behold -- and smell.

But in other news, Seb.astian is making lots of intense eye contact and even smiling from time to time, so my postpartum OCD/anxiety levels have dropped.  For that, I am extremely thankful and will happily deal with sick offspring.

An actual, verifiable source of worry

So So.ren is a little germ factory (or, more accurately, carrier).  He has had one cold after another all winter long because he goes to this indoor rec center with his nanny and the other kid in the sharecare, which, from a germ perspective, is maybe one step removed from daycare.  Well, he infected me with this latest cold, which gave me an ear infection and a cough.  

I thought my magical breastmilk would prevent Se.bastian from getting sick, but no luck.  He's now a sick little guy, coughing and wheezing and being really tired and not really eating much.  We've been to the doctor three times in 24 hours (on their advice -- I'm not THAT crazy) to get him checked.  He's taking lev.albut.erol from a nebulizer, and we're now adding some steroid to that plan.  If he gets worse, the next thing is the hospital, where they can give him oxygen.  

I'm not really sure how we could have prevented this, since I can't not touch So.ren when he's sick, you know?

In other news, I definitely have a bigger milk supply this time.  For one feeding at night, I've started just pumping (while someone else gives the baby a bottle of pumped milk and/or formula), and I am getting six or seven ounces then, after not feeding/pumping for four hours.  I did this with So.ren, too, and would only get three or four after not pumping/feeding for six to eight hours.  So wahoo!  Something is working.  It's hard to say what since I am taking 947 supplements, doing acupuncture, eating various alleged lactogenic foods, etc.

Also, I broke down and had a little booze the other day at an Oscars party.  Ahh, champagne.  So refreshing.

Because Niobe asked

Check out this post.  And check out the links in the post.  Then post your own eye color on your blog.  It's nifty to see everyone's eyes!

Insult to injury

We had the housecleaners here today, and they poured out the breastmilk I had just pumped.  (I keep the bottles/horns out for two or three pumping sessions before refrigerating the milk and washing the accessories.)  When I asked where they were, the cleaner said she had poured it out because "it was only a little."  A little for her, maybe!  Anyway, since we are already supplementing a few ounces a day with formula, this did not send me into convulsions.  If this had happened last week, I would have broken down and cried and perhaps not stopped until placed into an induced coma.

In other news, I am freaking myself out about the fact that Seb.astian doesn't make much eye contact.  I think it's improving (ie, he does more and more each day), but I consulted Dr. Google on all kinds of autism-related queries, and now I'm totally insane with worry.  I think that perhaps I need to (a) step away from the Internet and (b) see some sort of professional about my tendency to work myself up over medical things.  In the meantime, it would be nice if my little boy would start gazing at me lovingly and with massive smiles all the time.  I recall doing this with S.oren, too, but I think he started smiling shortly thereafter, and my fears were assuaged.  Se.bastian has broken out a few smiles for us that seem real, but then he goes back to looking at the wall, and I start to freak out again.  Gah.  I know he's only one month old, but still.