I'm feeling a bit bovine these days.
There are 2 reasons for this.
Reason #1: My body feels as big as a cow.
Not that I am doing anything about it, mind you.
In fact, about the only thing I want to eat is coffee and chocolate.
If I could switch out that chocolate for cigarettes, all my problems would be solved, right?
Well, maybe not.
Intellectually I know that I just had a baby 3 weeks ago and my stomach was swollen beyond recognition and still is.
But when yet another person says to me, "when are you due?" it makes me feel a little crazy.
Like I want to say, "hey MORON, you see that newborn baby in my husband's arms, standing RIGHT THERE NEXT TO ME? He was born 2 weeks ago. DUH."
Instead, I smile nicely and say, "actually, I just had a baby 2 weeks ago."
This happened last Sunday at church. It wasn't the first time.
And then I just want to pound another chocolate cupcake, washed down by an iced latte.
I suppose I should go for a walk instead.
It's always like this. But it doesn't mean it gets any easier.
I think I am handling it better this time around though.
I know it is what it is and in time I will get back to normal.
After all, I am slowly getting out of maternity pants.
I am now squeezing into those clothes I have in the box labeled, "NOT PREGNANT. STILL FAT."
You have to have a sense of humor about these things.
Reason # 2: Davy's been on the every 2 hour eating plan for the past couple of days and nights.
It's bad enough during the day.
Hard to get much done when I'm sitting on the couch every 1.5 hours . (it's every 2 hours from when you start the feeding, in case you were not aware of that fun fact)
But at night, it's utterly brutal.
I shouldn't complain.
It's our first spell of this with him.
Until now it's been 3, 4 or even 5 hours between feedings.
And I never have had a baby that wants to eat every 2 hours for any length of time.
I am sure he's having a growth spurt.
I can hardly think straight after 2 nights of seemingly constant nursing.
So, yeah, feeling like a mama cow right about now.
Thankfully it is the weekend, and a long one at that.
Aaron is home and taking care of the kids while I nurse away.
The kids are splashing happily in the biggest blow up pool we could find.
I am getting a moment of baby not attached to me time to type out some drivel, since I can't formulate thoughts deep enough for the post I really want to write: Lilly's 3rd birthday letter.
But for now, I will finally take a shower, and then I think we're heading to the beach.
Because it's hot, and it's 4th of July weekend.
And the beach is always fun.
And I apologize in advance for those of you who might see me on the beach looking rather cowish: nursing my baby and filling out last summer's swimsuit a bit too much.
That''s life on the farm right now.
Oh the joys of postpartum.
One of my favorite readers, Pam, explained it so perfectly:
"it is the best of times and the worst of times."
So, so true Pam.
Happy 4th to you all.
Hope it's wonderful!