The best thing about having a baby is...
BOOBIES!!!
Ok, so now that Nicholas is born, and my midsection is slowly shrinking back to probably 10 inches wider then it was before I had kids, something else is getting larger. Men's penises. That's right because with the breastfeeding, especially in this early stage, my boobies have grown to nice round huge milky porn star tits. It's amazing. There is nothing to make you feel great like instantly dropping a whole ton of baby around the middle (and being able to see your feet and knees again) and then having the boobs grow bigger in relation. It's amazing. So I feel pretty hot cause I've got big boobs (if only they could stay this way), I am regaining what might one day actually be a figure, and I can eat like a cow. I love babies.
Seriously though, I do love babies. With all the hoopla over post partum depression, I would like to think that I suffer the opposite, post partum hoorah. As Dan pointed out that perhaps I didn't feel this way the first time around with all that went on with Morgan, I feel like I did a bit feel this way with Morgan, a lot more this way with Carter, and again, hopelessly happy in love with Nicholas. I'm so happy with the way things are. I had such a beautiful labor and delivery, and now I've got a beautiful baby who's whole life is pleasant as long as he can suck on a boob or sleep on/around/next to mom. And he's so beautiful. I love stroking his hair, feeling his little soft round globe of a head and realizing how fragile it is, and how I'm the protecter that will keep this little grape from being smushed. And how I could just kiss his little face for hours on end (I've actually felt compelled to lick him like a mother cat, which I've passed on out of sheer wierdness, and the fact that I haven't been paying attention to when I brush my teeth anymore and it would be gross to mess up baby's hair with stinky breath smell). Everything about my precious little one is so amazing.
And then, because of Nick's arrival, I'm taking in my other two in a whole new light. Ok, mostly Carter has changed in my eyes because before he was the baby. He still looks like a baby with his fat chubby legs, his humongo diaper, his furry little mop. But he's not quite a baby anymore. He's talking (or atleast making sincere attempts), he's throwing fits and temper tantrums, he's got teeth (pretty soon a whole mouthful), and he's takes up half my body when I hold him. He's mondo mondo humungo! And then when Morgan's off to school, I've got my two boys, which freaks me out. After having my first baby be a girl, and then that little girl going to a nearly all girls playgroup, and getting well versed in all things girl, I've got two boys. Two of them! And Carter is boy. I see that now, after trying to ignore every thing about gender neutrality, and fighting against all things decisively boy, that I've got a B-O-Y! From the moment of raised eyebrows between Dan and I after Carter picked up a car for the first time and made vrooming sounds, to the "choochoo" he calls every loud vehicle (knowing full well that in very little time, he'll be very good about differentiating between bus, train, truck, and all other loud vehicles), and the need to climb and conquer every conquerable spot, he's a boy I now realize. An adorable loveable little man. And so I will need to finally learn the difference between a front loader and an excavator, get some more hotwheels, might actually have to give in to football and other sports themed toys, and even, perhaps, cultivate my daughter and allow her to become that much more girly and princess-y to offset all of the boy that I will be surrounded by. And I haven't done boy in a long time. The world of boy has mostly been hidden to me, with occasional glimpses from the one boy in play group, or the lump of boys at preschool. After nannying two boys for years, and having two brothers, I wonder how I did it. Have I lost anything from those times? What will be different now that these two boys will be mine? I look to others, like the lady at the doctors office with two little boys obviously close in age (after asking, they were 16 months apart), who looked as tired and worn out, yet very go with the flow (I'm thinking coping and realistic strategy here), as I sometimes feel, yet can see in every parent who has the two little boys dragging behind her. I know that it's going to be different, and I hate that it will be, just the nature of two little boys, versus a boy-girl, girl-girl, twins, or even just two kids. I will be having a fairly unique experience corraling my two sons to do what I want when I want, and dealing with those situations (I see plenty) when that will never happen, as well as having a four year old who's independence and individuality is becoming louder and more clear every day (bittersweet), all while being under 25 (well till November- hot damn I'm gettin up there :). Yeah, as if my age will be some magic potion that keeps me from getting fusterated, tired, worn out, or any other mother-induced condition. I know it does help, it is a factor, but still, it ain't everything! You can still have sympathy damn it!!
Ok, now I have written enough, and must move on. But I am thorughly enjoying these opportunities to write, and hope that they continue to come as often as they have been, or at least I will try to make them do so ;D
Ok, so now that Nicholas is born, and my midsection is slowly shrinking back to probably 10 inches wider then it was before I had kids, something else is getting larger. Men's penises. That's right because with the breastfeeding, especially in this early stage, my boobies have grown to nice round huge milky porn star tits. It's amazing. There is nothing to make you feel great like instantly dropping a whole ton of baby around the middle (and being able to see your feet and knees again) and then having the boobs grow bigger in relation. It's amazing. So I feel pretty hot cause I've got big boobs (if only they could stay this way), I am regaining what might one day actually be a figure, and I can eat like a cow. I love babies.
Seriously though, I do love babies. With all the hoopla over post partum depression, I would like to think that I suffer the opposite, post partum hoorah. As Dan pointed out that perhaps I didn't feel this way the first time around with all that went on with Morgan, I feel like I did a bit feel this way with Morgan, a lot more this way with Carter, and again, hopelessly happy in love with Nicholas. I'm so happy with the way things are. I had such a beautiful labor and delivery, and now I've got a beautiful baby who's whole life is pleasant as long as he can suck on a boob or sleep on/around/next to mom. And he's so beautiful. I love stroking his hair, feeling his little soft round globe of a head and realizing how fragile it is, and how I'm the protecter that will keep this little grape from being smushed. And how I could just kiss his little face for hours on end (I've actually felt compelled to lick him like a mother cat, which I've passed on out of sheer wierdness, and the fact that I haven't been paying attention to when I brush my teeth anymore and it would be gross to mess up baby's hair with stinky breath smell). Everything about my precious little one is so amazing.
And then, because of Nick's arrival, I'm taking in my other two in a whole new light. Ok, mostly Carter has changed in my eyes because before he was the baby. He still looks like a baby with his fat chubby legs, his humongo diaper, his furry little mop. But he's not quite a baby anymore. He's talking (or atleast making sincere attempts), he's throwing fits and temper tantrums, he's got teeth (pretty soon a whole mouthful), and he's takes up half my body when I hold him. He's mondo mondo humungo! And then when Morgan's off to school, I've got my two boys, which freaks me out. After having my first baby be a girl, and then that little girl going to a nearly all girls playgroup, and getting well versed in all things girl, I've got two boys. Two of them! And Carter is boy. I see that now, after trying to ignore every thing about gender neutrality, and fighting against all things decisively boy, that I've got a B-O-Y! From the moment of raised eyebrows between Dan and I after Carter picked up a car for the first time and made vrooming sounds, to the "choochoo" he calls every loud vehicle (knowing full well that in very little time, he'll be very good about differentiating between bus, train, truck, and all other loud vehicles), and the need to climb and conquer every conquerable spot, he's a boy I now realize. An adorable loveable little man. And so I will need to finally learn the difference between a front loader and an excavator, get some more hotwheels, might actually have to give in to football and other sports themed toys, and even, perhaps, cultivate my daughter and allow her to become that much more girly and princess-y to offset all of the boy that I will be surrounded by. And I haven't done boy in a long time. The world of boy has mostly been hidden to me, with occasional glimpses from the one boy in play group, or the lump of boys at preschool. After nannying two boys for years, and having two brothers, I wonder how I did it. Have I lost anything from those times? What will be different now that these two boys will be mine? I look to others, like the lady at the doctors office with two little boys obviously close in age (after asking, they were 16 months apart), who looked as tired and worn out, yet very go with the flow (I'm thinking coping and realistic strategy here), as I sometimes feel, yet can see in every parent who has the two little boys dragging behind her. I know that it's going to be different, and I hate that it will be, just the nature of two little boys, versus a boy-girl, girl-girl, twins, or even just two kids. I will be having a fairly unique experience corraling my two sons to do what I want when I want, and dealing with those situations (I see plenty) when that will never happen, as well as having a four year old who's independence and individuality is becoming louder and more clear every day (bittersweet), all while being under 25 (well till November- hot damn I'm gettin up there :). Yeah, as if my age will be some magic potion that keeps me from getting fusterated, tired, worn out, or any other mother-induced condition. I know it does help, it is a factor, but still, it ain't everything! You can still have sympathy damn it!!
Ok, now I have written enough, and must move on. But I am thorughly enjoying these opportunities to write, and hope that they continue to come as often as they have been, or at least I will try to make them do so ;D
posted by Karen at 11:05 AM
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