Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Breast feeding 101

I nursed Wesley and I plan on nursing Henry too when he arrives. I had been waiting to have this conversation with Wesley, we had already discussed how the baby grows in mommy's belly, umbilical cords and how the baby can pee in there (hilarious evidently).  WE have talked about how mommy will go to the hospital to have the baby and how a doctor will help mommy get the baby out. Wesley has informed me I need to "push like I am pooping" when the time comes. So, as you can see I am fairly open with information when he asks questions but I am not about to start discussing all the dirty details unless he cares enough to ask. I knew it was only a matter of time before how the baby was fed came up.

At first, I just told him that Mommy would make special milk for the baby to drink the first few months until he was able to eat baby food and solids. He was fine with this up until last Friday when we had lunch out with some friends. My friend has a daughter who is on formula and Wesley watched as she mixed up a bottle for her. A few days later on Sunday the topic of feeding Henry came up and Wesley asked if I was going to pour in the powder into the bottle of water and shake it up. Now was the moment I had been waiting for, rehearsing what I was going to say in my head.

It went something like this:
Me: "Well, Mommy is going to feed our baby a little differently than that. Remember how we talked about how God made girls and boy different so that girls can carry a baby in their belly while boys don't? (nods from Wesley) god also made mommies so that they could make food for their babies to eat, we make a special milk for the baby to drink. The milk comes after the baby is born and Mommy will use her breasts-uh boobies-to feed the baby. so when Baby Henry is hungry, Mommy will take him and feed him. Sometimes I will put the milk in a bottle and you can feed him. I can show you some pictures of Mommy feeding you this way if you want."
At this point, Wesley is very quiet so I glance back to see if he is just processing all this or what. I look back (we were in the car) and see him with a HUGE grin on his face.
I ask tentatively "Wesley? Do you understand?"
He replies: "Mommy....you said 'boobies'!" And then processes to crack up for the next 5 minutes.

So, out of that whole conversation all he got was....."boobies". Sigh. Boys. They really never change or grow up when it comes to the boob.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Cat and Dog Diary

Because everyone needs a laugh and because you know this is true....


8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!

9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!

9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!

10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!

12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!

1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!

3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!

5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!

7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!

8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with my people! My favorite thing!

11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!


Day 983 of my captivity.

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.

They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape.

In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Idiots!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormenters by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously an idiot.

The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe.

For now...