Boring

I haven't written much lately because I have become boring. I get up. I feed the baby. I drop her off at daycare. I go to work. I come home. I play with the baby. I cook dinner. I pump a lot. I go to sleep. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Which is not to say that life is boring. Life is now all about the exquisite little moments -- the smile when she wakes up and sees me in the morning, the grip of her little hand, the way my husband looks at her, the sight of her fast asleep on her back with one little hand behind her head. And other moments, too -- the delicious solitude of a train ride to the city with a good book, the mental exercise of solving a thorny problem at work, the decadence of eating an entire meal with nothing to interrupt me except the internet. Oh, and -- surprisingly -- my newly rediscovered sex life. Sex on a weeknight? Really?

So, yeah. I'm boring. But I'm not bored.

And I'm OK if it stays that way for a little while.

Sick baby!

Is there anything sadder than the sound of a 4-month-old hacking like a two pack a day smoker? Or, instead of her usual high-pitched cry, a low "meeeeeh, meeeeh" sort of bleating sound as she looks up at me from her crib?

Well, yes. Even sadder than that is the sound of a hacking, bleating baby getting 3 vaccinations in her little fat baby thighs. And screaming her little stuffy head off.

And I suspect this is just the beginning. The handy dandy Baby 411 book I was reading at 2 this morning while waiting for the little bleater to fall back asleep tells me that there are over 100 variations of the cold virus, and that babies and toddlers basically keep getting sick until they've built up their immunity to all of them. So we have DOZENS more nights like last night ahead of us.

The silver lining (other than that I've been able to start catching up on TiVoed episodes of Grey's Anatomy and the absolutely awful Private Practice) is that I've been sick with the same bug and have lost my voice a bit, which the Mr. seems to think is tres sexy.

So, um, yay?

Bring on the smelly pee!

Thanks for all of the kind comments on yesterday's post.....I'm feeling much better today. Except sometime between last night and this morning, I lost my voice. When I went in to get the Chicklette this morning and croaked "Good morning!," she looked at me, like, who is this prepubescent boy and what did you do to the lady with the boobs?!?

Anyway, so today's post, if the title didn't clue you in, is about asparagus. Asparagus soup, to be exact. It's one of the tasty concoctions I've been living on lately as part of my fabulous foray into Weight Watchers land.

I can't say enough good things about WW. It's the perfect plan for me -- she who likes wine and carbs and appreciates being able to eat whatever I want (although not necessarily in the quantities that I want, of course). I've lost something like 45 pounds since I had the baby -- about 20 of these on Weight Watchers. I'm now down to my pre-IVF weight, and have another 25 or so to go to get me back to where I was when I started my two year infertility self-pity binge.

Anyhoo, the soup. I make a lot of soup, and experimented with this one last weekend. I thought I'd post the recipe since it's asparagus season and it's ridonkulously easy to make. And of course there's the added smelly pee bonus.

Happy weekend!

Springtime Asparagus Soup

2 big bunches asparagus (or two bags of frozen from Trader Joe's)
6 cups chicken or veg broth
1 TBSP butter
1 large onion
1/4 cup fat free half-and-half (or fat free sour cream, if that's more your thing)
salt and pepper to taste

Chop onion and asparagus into manageable chunks (you'll be pureeing later, so no need to be too fussy). Melt butter in a large pot over medium-high heat, and add onion. Saute for 2-3 minutes, then add asparagus and broth. Bring to a boil, then lower to a simmer for 20-25 minutes or until asparagus is very tender. Puree soup with a hand blender* (or in a blender in batches), add half-and-half, and salt and pepper to taste.

This soup is awesome with a sprinkling of croutons and parmesan cheese on top, and keeps in the fridge for a few days. I didn't try to freeze it, but I'm sure it would be just fine. I'm planning to try this recipe with a bunch of other veggies in the coming weeks.

* One annoying thing about this soup is that the strands from the asparagus can get wound around your blender blade. Be prepared for a few extra minutes of asparagus extraction during the otherwise very low-maintenance cleanup.

Crying over spilled milk

I just returned to my office from the "Wellness Room," where I discovered that one of my pumping bottles had tipped over in the fridge and divulged itself of a couple of ounces of my morning's work. Earlier this week, I was transferring milk from one bottle to another to bring to daycare, and accidentally knocked one of the bottles over, making a sad, giant puddle on the kitchen counter.

I don't know what it is, but I had to fight back tears both times. My supply still sucks, so every ounce counts.

I'm feeding the Chicklette once in the morning when she wakes up, and then pumping 5 or 6 times a day to get an additional 15 or so ounces. She's also taking 2 or 3 bottles of formula a day. I don't know how much longer I can continue, but also don't know if I have the strength to just walk away. It's a permanent decision, so as much as I fantasize about giving up the mid-night pump and using my pump time at work for a trip to the gym....I hesitate.

Sorry for the pity party. I am dead tired this week, fighting a cold, and just generally feeling sorry for myself.

Bleh.

Weird

I'm working from home today, sans Chicklette. Yep, I passed up the opportunity to spend the day with her and took her to daycare. And let me just say, I have not achieved this level of productivity since, oh, December 22.

Things today that are kind of awesome:

• I can grind coffee beans with impunity! No need to worry about a baby napping.
• I can get through a conference call without apologizing for a baby fart!
• I can go to the gym!
• I can lavish attention on my cats, who I sometimes go days without thinking about!

Don't get me wrong, I will be running stop signs to get to her this afternoon. But before that, I will enjoy the luxury of the next 6 hours. Even though I'm working.

Because working for The Man is waaaaaay easier than working for The Baby.

The post in which I sdilsdfajilsdfzzzzzzz........

One of the things that new parents seem to like talking to pregnant women about is sleep. If I had a buck for everytime someone told me to "enjoy your sleep while you can!"....well, I'd be spending even more money on useless frilly baby clothes than I already am.

The sleep comments always annoyed me. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Stockpile sleep? Freeze it like breast milk and thaw it out for a rainy day? And wasn't my sleep already crappy enough, what with the 7-pound bowling ball sitting on my bladder? Surely the sleep situation with a baby couldn't be that much worse, right?

Wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

I have to say, as a person who has always enjoyed a solid 7-8 hours a night, topped off with a lazy morning or two on the weekends, that having a baby has COMPLETELY changed my relationship with sleep. And not in a good way. And not just because the Edward Cullen dreams have all but disappeared.

It wasn't just the newborn phase -- sure, it was tough with the frequent baby waking and the bleeding and the soreness/pain and the hormones and the general recovery from bodily trauma. Oh, and the fact that you hear every single dingle noise the baby makes and OH MY GOD IS SHE STILL BREATHING? Let me check.

Even though the Chicklette has been sleeping, more or less, through the night for the last few weeks, it's STILL hard. It's the sheer unpredictability -- sometimes she'll have a night or two where she'll wake up or just be so grunty that it's hard to not lay in bed counting the minutes until I'm going to have to go in and feed/change/soothe her.

Most of all, and especially since I've gone back to work, it's the fact that the days start so early and are soooooo looooong. It's up at 5:30, sometimes 6 if it's a day my work schedule permits and she actually sleeps until 6. I'm lucky to be in bed by 9:3o or 10, which would actually work if I wasn't still getting up in the middle of the night to pump. Which only technically takes 20 minutes, but sometimes turns into more if I can't get back to sleep, or the baby wakes up, or (as was the case last night) I fall asleep, boobs in horns, and wake up an hour later with a crick in my neck and 3-inch long nipples.

So, yeah, life has changed. And most of the time I can deal with it. Except when I can't, and I'm struggling to make it through the day without falling asleep in my office or doing something stupid. Thank God for the pumping breaks so that I can catnap....but after last night I'm a little scared I'm going to nod off and not wake up until the night janitor comes to empty the trash can.

I guess I'm doing better with the sleep deprivation than I thought I would, but it's still not fun. And the fact that it may be YEARS before I can sleep in at the same time as my husband on a weekend morning makes me want to weep.

What all this means is that every time I talk to a friend who is expecting, or see a pregnant woman on the train, or talk to my former self (which, yes, I sometimes do), I can't help it. I don't say anything out loud, but in the back of my mind, a little voice is saying:

"Enjoy your sleep while you can, beyotch!"

A very happy Easter

Easter week has been a very happy time in the Barefoot family as of late. Last Holy Thursday, we got the amazing call letting us know that our IVF cycle had been successful. And last Easter, this generally non-churchgoing couple of semi-lapsed Catholics got dressed in our Sunday best and went to Mass. I remember standing there, hand on my belly, so very thankful for the little life growing inside of me.

Today, we'll be taking the grandparents to church, with that little life squirming (and hopefully not crying -- ohpleaseohpleaseohplease) next to me.

I am so very thankful. And I don't take for granted for a minute what a miracle it is that we'll have a bonneted beautiful baby with us today.

Even if she hasn't pooped for two days and will probably let loose all over her fancy dress.

Happy Easter, peeps.

1 week down, many more to go

We made it through the first week with both parents back to work. I am exhausted. I am glad it's over, even though it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

I have just enough energy to share the following exchange, which was the first conversation I had on Monday morning:

IT guy, walking by my office: "Hey, welcome back!"

Me: "Thanks, it's good to be back."

IT guy: "So, did you have a natural childbirth?"

Me, dumbfounded: "Do you mean...."

IT guy: "I mean, did you have a C-section, or the other way?"

(Please keep in mind that I barely know the IT guy.)

What I wanted to say: "Are you asking me if the baby came out of my VAGINA?"

Thankfully, no one else asked about my birthing experience this week.

But there's always next week, I guess.