A Few of my Favorite Things

Have I mentioned yet that I'm spending a lot of time online right now? Because I am.

In fact, I think my Bloglines account is starting to get weary of me dropping by. "For crying out loud, lady. Give it a rest! You just checked me five minutes ago! No one is updating their blog at 3:34 in the morning."

And for those of you noticing via your analytics engine that somebody is camping out on your blog for 20 hours a day, sorry. That would be me, leaving your blog open so I can comment at some point when I'm not nursing a baby. (I tried typing comments with one finger for a while, but it got too frustrating. And I'm too old to start text messaging. U R w/ me, rght?)

On the up side, I'm stumbling across many great new blogs. And I'm also enjoying a bunch of funny sites that I don't normally take the time to read.

So, because I'm a sharing kind of person, here are a few of the gems I found the over the past week.

My favorite line o' humor (via The Bleat):

Anyway. It took a few minutes to get into the parking lot, because I was behind a Caddy whose owner moved so slowly I suspected she had put the car in neutral and was waiting for the rotation of the earth to deliver her to her parking space.

My favorite lame criminal story, complete with biting commentary (via Buzz Minnesota):

"Obstruction. A 29-year-old man was arrested at Perkins. The man had left the restaurant the day before without paying his bill. When he returned the following day, staff called 911. The man denied not paying for his food, and deputies said he refused to follow their orders, so he was zapped with a Taser and arrested for obstruction.”

Two things to keep in mind as you wind your way through life: follow the officer’s instructions even if you believe in the depths of your heart that you paid for that short stack, and don’t run out on your restaurant bill. When I was a waiter we had a student clientèle, but few runners; they were poor and honest folk. You got lazy. Took your eye off the door. One night a fellow came in, slid around the back of the pie case, took a cream pie, and ran. Right away you know you’re not dealing with someone trying to feed a family. “Les Miserables” would be less effect if Jean Valjean had passed up the vegetables and stolen a bear claw. It was a cream pie, so perhaps he was the father of starving clowns, but I still didn't care.

I ran out the door, followed by two patrons who observed the theft and wanted a little vigilante justice to liven up a long cold night. We caught the fellow right away – he dropped the pie and blubbered apologies. It was for a fraternity scavenger hunt, dude, that’s all. Can’t you let me go?

We did. After he paid for the pie. He paid a lot for the pie, too. Enough to cover the price and a slice for the guys who helped run him down. A la mode, too.

Best advice for the GOP post-Super Tuesday (via Evangelical Outpost):

Pundit-based reality: McCain will destroy the GOP.

Voter-based reality: McCain is the leading choice for a majority of the GOP.

Listen, McCain is not my first choice. But he appears to be the inevitable choice of our party. If he's nominated I'll vote for him for the simple fact that his is far better than Obama or Clinton. If you disagree, then quietly vote for the third party candidate of your choice. But for heaven's sakes, stop whining, stop hyperventilating, and stop all the hyperbolic, Tony-award worthy dramatics. It's unbecoming.

My favorite public prank -- "Frozen Grand Central" (via the really interesting group Improv Everwhere):



By the way, I totally want to be friends with the people who started this concept. It's brilliant.

My favorite find of the week (the kind of thing that made me say, once again, I [heart] the Internet):

"Death of a Pig" by E.B. White

A wry and witty re-telling of the untimely demise of Mr. White's pig. It's a long essay, but I promise it's worth your time. (Hat tip to Karma Wilson, who is herself a wonderful writer of children's books.)

Oh, and in case you're already wondering -- Mr. White insisted this episode did not birth his eventual classic "Charlotte's Web."

And finally, my favorite "this will make you think" blog post of the week (and this faced some pretty stiff competition, believe you me):

What if ... none were enough?

Julie is always an eloquent writer, and this post is just another example of how she can turn a phrase and cut right to the heart.

Isn't the Internet grand?

See you out there. I'll be lurking.

Cute Teyla Talking

Hi everyone. My name is Teyla, and I'm the newest member of the Love Well family.

Since I'm officially four weeks old today, my Mom is letting me take over her blog for a few minutes so we can have a quick conversation, seeing as that's my favorite thing to do right now with the people who love me.

For example, here's my Dad and me talking. We hold in-depth discussions every night.
















He tells me what's on his mind and gives me the latest info on the Presidential elections.
















Of course, I have no idea what he's saying.
















But that's OK. Because he's handsome, in a Dad sort of way. So just looking at him is fine with me.
















If I'm looking for something a little lighter, I turn to my big sister Natalie. She's great at dishing some girl talk.
















I really like her, and she talks to me in such a sweet voice. But she holds me so close, it makes my eyes do funny things.





















I also feel an uncontrollable urge to talk with my hands when I'm around Natalie. My Dad says all the females in my family do that.





















Here's me partaking in some grandparent conversation, when my Grammie and Papa were here a few weeks ago.
















They were fascinated by everything I said, even if I was filling my diaper during our discussion.
















My Papa is a pastor, so I thought I should show him how I can give God some praise.
















They told me lots of stories about my Mommy. Frankly, those gave me pause. Things that make you go "hmmmm."
















Wow. All that talk is tiring. (Yawn!)
















Good thing I have this lady to fall asleep on. We talk sometimes too, but really, she makes a better pillow than a conversationalist. She's not a bad cook either.





















See you after my nap! Maybe....

Because It's Super Tuesday

So my husband is an executive at a company that raises money for nonprofits -- including political parties and candidates. (And that's all I'm saying about that for the time being. There shall be no name dropping at this point in the campaign.)

Obviously, with this being a Presidential election year in the U.S., things are pretty busy at work right now. Yet, strangely, his staff isn't hearing a lot of enthusiasm from voters -- even the voters who care enough to give money to support the candidate of their choice.

"It's a tough year," he remarked last week. "The whole population is suffering from electile dysfunction. There just doesn't seem to be a lot of arousal on the part of the voters."

(Bum, dum, bum.)

Thank you! He'll be here all week.

Ladies and Gentlemen, We Have A Belly Button

Teyla's umbilical cord fell off Friday. It only took three weeks and two days for her to reveal her belly button, which means she wins the Umbilical Cord Contest hands down.

I don't know why, but it took forever for our other kids umbilical cords to go. In fact, Natalie's hung around so long -- by clinging to a thread of gooey cord that wouldn't dry up no matter how much alcohol I poured onto her tummy -- that I ended up cutting it off with a pair of toenail clippers. Because it was beginning to smell.

Decaying umbilical cord. That's a scent no one imagines.

Anyway. Here's Teyla's newly revealed belly button.
















And for those of you thinking, "Oh my word. She's posting pictures of her baby's belly button for crying out loud! Get a grip, woman!" I hear you. I just don't care.

It's my blog, and I'll blog what I want to.

Be thankful I can't post scents.

(Coming later this week: Pictures of Teyla where she's not crying. I promise.)

Updated to add: I forgot to mention how thrilled Connor and Natalie were by this development. They loathed the umbilical cord with a loathing normally reserved for scorpions and Swamp Things.

"Ewww! Get rid of it, Mom!" they pleaded when they helped me change Teyla's diaper for the first time. "It's disgusting!"

I was actually afraid to leave her with them for too long, lest one of them try to pull it off by hand. So Teyla's belly button? It's a good thing for my kids. It means the terrifying reign of the umbilical cord is over.

Until next time.

Muwhahahaha.

The Tooth Fairy Needs A Secretary

Yes, I know the term "secretary" is hopelessly antiquated. But the Tooth Fairy is a mythological creature. Ergo, she is allowed to call her help whatever she wishes.

Natalie lost another tooth yesterday. That's the fourth one she's lost in the last eight weeks. She's fast on her way to gumming all her food, like an elderly person eating dinner at Old Country Buffet at 4:30 PM.

(We tease her that she's going to be forced to eat nothing but mashed bananas the rest of the winter, but that's only because she loathes all things banana. The love is strong in this household.)

Want to see her hillbilly smile? It's adorable.





















Unfortunately, the Tooth Fairy -- doubtlessly exhausted from nursing a newborn the repeated trips to our house the last few months -- didn't retrieve the tooth from under Natalie's pillow last night. Which means there was no small amount of pouting, crying and deep sighing this morning when we all got up.

I tried to comfort her with the thought that the Tooth Fairy is hardly ever derelict in her duties. After all, she even managed to get the tooth that fell out the night before Mom and Dad left for the hospital to have Teyla.

(Barely. Corey and I were already in bed, half-asleep, when I bolted upright and whispered sharply, "Oh! No!" Corey later told me this is the wrong thing to say to your husband in the middle of the night when you are already four centimeters dilated.)

But that did little to soothe the disappointed spirit of a six-year-old with no teeth and not enough quarters to show for it.

Hopefully, the Tooth Fairy will do better tonight. Does anyone want to volunteer to make a reminder call? Those fairies can be so undependable once the lights go out.

All The News That's Fit To Print

Good news: The mastitis is gone. I'd like to thank Teyla, who nursed constantly for the last two weeks, and my new best friends, dicloxacillin and cephalexin.

Bad news: My three-week-old now believes Mom is a pacifier who will magically solve all her problems, including the need to eat, to drink and to be soothed into dreamland.

Good news: The wounds I incurred from constantly nursing an infant with the strongest sucking reflex in the galaxy (she could peel paint off a dresser, I swear) are slowly healing. This means Teyla can now latch-on without me sending desperate prayers to heaven to "kill me now, please, kill me now."

Bad news: However, I am still curling my toes and breaking out in an involuntary sweat for the first two minutes of each nursing session.

Good news: I lost seven pounds since I came home from the hospital three weeks ago tomorrow. And I wasn't even trying! Go-go breastfeeding!

Bad news: I still look like a slightly warped number 8, no matter which direction you look at me. This is causing me some mental distress, as I normally look like a 1. The lumps. They are very lumpy.

Good news: Having a new baby is an automatic excuse to stay indoors all day and do nothing. And I do mean nothing. All of a sudden, making the beds and taking a shower in the same day seems like a major accomplishment.

Bad news: Unfortunately, the ability to get nothing done all day is also causing me mental distress. I like to multi-task. I like to cross things off my to-do list. I like to be In Control and In Charge and Accomplish Much. So cutting back my day-to-day expectations is painful.

Good news: Our high today is 12. (Yes, this is good news. Stay with me, people.) Our high yesterday was -2. The wind chill was -37. Only in Minnesota can 12 feel like a heat wave. And it's possible that yesterday's frigid temperatures were the worst of the winter. We're heading toward spring now, baby!

Bad news: Spring doesn't come to our neck of the woods until mid-April, which is still four months away.

Good news: My husband will change diapers. Even dirty ones. (Michael, are you reading this?!?)





















Bad news: The stabbing pain of a thousand gas bubbles make for an unhappy baby.





















Good news: I'm writing again! On the blog! And the baby is sleeping!

Bad news: She's waking up, and I still haven't made the beds this morning. And it's time to pick up my son from preschool.

Good news: Even though I'm not posting as much here, I'm reading a lot out there. Even if you don't see me, I'm lurking. Thank you for keeping me entertained, informed and encouraged. The last time I nursed an infant, my online reading material consisted of BabyCenter bulletin boards ("Like Junior High. Only With Less Maturity!") and news sites. You have saved me from that fate this time around, and I'm forever grateful.

Congestion

I'm tempted to start this post with two words: recurring mastitis. But that's just a shameful cry for sympathy.

Besides, while the mastitis did indeed return (twice), I'm better at this point. Mostly anyway. I start a new antibiotic tomorrow, to ensure the evil bacteria is beaten and banished from my body. But the fever has been gone for three days now, a good sign. And I'm blogging again, an even better sign.

Of course, I'm still dealing with soreness and cracking and all sorts other unpleasantness on a part of my body that shall not be named lest Google tag me for all sorts of equally unpleasant searches. I'm also experiencing a fair amount of lacto-congestion.

However, I have faith that this, too, shall pass. I nursed both of my other children for a year, after we forged through that excruciating first month. So we'll just keep moving ahead.

But man -- Veronica spoke deep truth when she commented on the last post, "Breastfeeding is hard enough when it's easy. If that makes any sense." It does, Veronica. It does.

Speaking of congestion, I have to tell you that even even when I was lying on my bed, covered with blankets, shaking like a maraca and drenched with sweat, even then I was composing blog posts in my brain. They were all ridiculous drivel, but still. I've missed writing here. In fact, I've missed it so much, my brain is now clogged with all sorts of thoughts and ideas and half-written posts.

I think I have blogo-congestion.

I'll try to work it out this weekend with hot showers, massage and lots of Tylenol. Or at least, lots of hot coffee.

In the meantime, here are a few pictures to tide you over. And since the masses have spoken, I'll resist posting any mastitis photos. Geesh! You people are so picky.

The sisters. Natalie is thinking about suing us for custody rights.
















The new big brother with his little sister. Connor is mostly neutral about "Baby Teyla" at this point, although he's fascinated by all the noises she makes.
















Daddy and daughter. I love this picture, because it shows her size. (Which is now 7 pounds, 11 ounces, thank you very much. The breastfeeding can't be going that badly.)





















The princess sleeping after a mid-afternoon bath. (Notice the fuzzy hair. I love that about babies.)
















And a smile in the morning. She's sleeping four-hour stretches at night right now, so she's pretty content when she first wakes up.
















See you next week.