Danger Boob. Breastfeeding Part 2
I did not think I was the sort of person to give their boobs nicknames until I breastfed, but then each of them developed its own personality quirks and method of trying to kill me or my baby.
This is, I regret to inform you, based on not just one true story but many.
Shaved My Legs
No, really, what makes you say that. I wear jeans a lot more these days. And leggings. Leggings are the best invention possibly ever. Technology peaked at stretch fabric.
Holidays are Over
‘I’ll just give myself a little break over Christmas,’ I said. ‘I’ll get right back into the swing of things straight away,’ I said. ‘Relaxing is a good thing,’ I said.
Merry Catmas to all who observe!
Got Milk? Breastfeeding Part 1
Nothing can prepare you for waking up in the soft, glowy morning after having your first child—that one in the little plastic-walled bassinet next to your bed, wrapped up like an angelic bug in a hospital baby blanket—to the brick-wall reality that you are definitely already doing everything wrong…
What podcasts do you listen to?
Betrayed by my own blood.
Unexpected Things Babies Like
I completely expected for them to like power points, grabbing the cat’s tail and throwing themselves from heights. I knew about those things. Following a crawling baby around stopping her from repeatedly headbutting every solid object she came across was not something I expected to be doing at all, let alone often.
It’s okay everyone, I’m in therapy, therefore this can be read as socially-acceptable self-deprecating snippet of entertainment and not a poor attempt to muffle the scream for constant validation that bubbles up inside me in ever smaller intervals that I am slowly becoming aware will never, ever be sated.