Single parenting = hard

DISCLAIMER: I am by no means looking to minimize the job that full-time single parents do by complaining here about my experience this week. Three nights is not a lifetime.

BUT.

It is three long nights (and days).

The Mr. went on his first business trip this week. He left at 6:45 on Sunday morning and OMG THANK YOU he just landed about 5 minutes ago.

It's not that the Chicklette is a difficult baby -- in fact, she's pretty dang easy -- but her bedtime is, shall we say, variable. Which means that she falls asleep anytime between 6:15 and 11:30. This unpredictability is usually not a big deal to me, since I do the morning shift and the Mr. does the evening. My bedtime is usually 9:30, no matter what.

And actually, she was great this week. Down by 9:30 or 9:45 every night, for the night. But oh, the anxiety. I'm not good at putting her down, and there has been at least one false start each night, rendering me a quivering piece of WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING? for at least one chunk of the evening. And then there's the fact that I'm so worried about sleeping through whatever she might need during the night (since there's no backup parent) that my body has woken itself up every. single. hour. for the last 3 nights. And has not really let itself fall back to sleep again.

My milk supply is suffering. I am a snappish, walking zombie at work, which has also chosen this week to completely kick my ass. I had all but forgotten those early days when the sleep deprivation made me crazy....it is an amazing thing, sleep.

I am so looking forward to resuming my regular bedtime tonight, I could cry. And I probably will before the day is out.

And I am so, so thankful that I have a partner to do this child-raising thing with.

Zzzzzzznfkjdfkjbg......

p.s. On a more positive note, the Mr. being gone means that I have gotten every single smile, coo, raspberry, and chubby kissy baby cheek all to myself for the last 4 days. I will miss that.

The gassiest house on the block

Friends and family would be well advised to keep their distance from the Barefoot house this week. Why, you might ask? Well, because the Mr. is headed out of town on a business trip (the prospect of which fills me with utter terror, but that's a topic for another post).

One of the things this means is that I'll be indulging in all of the foods he doesn't like to eat. You might think this would mean that I'll be eating lots of chocolate, or something, you know, indulgent. But no. The Mr.'s only food aversions are to vegetables. So here's what's on the docket for the next few days:

Cream of Broccoli Soup (already simmering on the stove)

Pasta with Cauliflower

The roasted vegetable whole grain lasagna from Trader Joe's

One might question the wisdom of partaking in so many toot-inducing foods while still breastfeeding. I know, I might pay for it later. But anyone who wants to come visit will pay for it IMMEDIATELY.

And should probably avoid lighting a match.

How exciting and sexy is my life?

Now we're talking

I will spare everyone my schmoopy thoughts about Mothers' Day.....not because I'm not feeling schmoopy, but because I'm actually at a loss for words (me? oh yes) when it comes to articulating what this day means to me. The Mr. handed me the homemade card that the Chicklette made for me at daycare (unaided, I'm sure, because she is a baby genius) on Friday and I've been speechless ever since.

But, I can talk about the totally shallow reasons why this weekend has rocked. Let me count the ways:

1. 90 minute massage.

2. Saturday girls night out, with adult beverages.

3. Upcoming dinner at my favorite restaurant.

4. Chicklette sleeping 'til 9 and letting mom sleep off her mild hangover (and -- bonus -- snuggle in bed with Dad for the first time in months).

Wishing everyone reading a day of peace and contentment, wherever you are in the journey.

No longer ding-free

You know that blissful-yet-nervewracking period after you get a new car, when you haven't accidentally plowed a shopping cart into it yet, or had a neighbor bonk you with their door, or had to parallel park yet? That no-ding period?

Well, it's over in the Barefood household. Except not with the car. With the BABY. And instead of a shopping cart, the Chicklette was dinged by two completely incompetent parents.

You could see it coming a mile away. Fingernails needed to be clipped. I was in a rush to hop in the shower, so handed of the clippers to the fingernail-clipping-virgin husband. As I was toweling off, I hear baby screams, followed by "I'm SO sorry, I'm SO sorry" and "Honey, we need a band-aid in here!"

Of course, I didn't have a baby-sized bandaid, so had to McGyver an adult-sized one to fit her little bleeding, quivering finger. And oh, the sadness. And the blood. There was a lot of blood. But still ten fingers. Phew.

So. We bandaged her up, and headed out for the day. Because I am a fate-tempting idiot, I proceeded to pepper the Mr. with jeers throughout the course of the afternoon. Because he didn't feel bad enough, and I can't ever let go of an opportunity to lord my parenting prowess over him. I'm lucky the foreshadowing didn't knock me out with a blow to the head.

Because later, I was all like, "Hey, let's finish cutting those nails!" And the baby was all like, "Hey, I need a matching wound for my other hand!"

That's right, folks. ANOTHER fingernail boo-boo. More screams. More blood. (Still 10 fingers.)

So, yeah. Not exactly an A+ weekend for parenting around these parts. And I think I've learned my lesson about the lording of parenting prowess.

At least for today.

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.