Ringin in the New Year!

I love my babies.  2014 is the year I'm gonna love my body, too!  Here is a play by play of the past 5 years, most of which I have spent pregnant, breastfeeding, or pregnant AND breastfeeding.  It's taken a toll on my body.

2009-I spent most of the year pregnant.
2010-I spent the whole year breastfeeding.
2011-I spent the beginning of the year pregnant AND breastfeeding.  Then just pregnant.  Then just breastfeeding.  THAT was a crazy year!
2012- I spent the entire year breastfeeding.
2013- Still breastfeeding (until November).

It's funny that the last post I made was about breastfeeding a toddler, and Opal spontaneously decided to stop breastfeeding around Thanksgiving.  She's asked for a booby only once since then.  Bittersweet.  I still feel drops of milk leaking out every now and then though.  Guess I could always be a wet nurse!

So that is almost 5 years of baby, baby, baby!  And 2014 is the year that I don't have a baby IN me or ON me (in the nursing sense:).  Woo-hoo.  I do a lot of calculating of the months I spent pregnant/breastfeeding and just amazes me what our bodies go through for our babies.  I spent 40 months breastfeeding!  40!  That is like three and a half years!  Crazy to me.  So, here's to ME in 2014!!!  (knock on wood!)

Badass...

So, I just happened to look at my blog for the first time in yeah...9 months!  cray-cray!  And I noticed my little breastfeeding ticker said I've been breastfeeding for 2 years, 2 months, 2 weeks, and 2 days!  That's a lot of twos!  Some people probably just think I've forgotten to take the ticker down and some just think I'm crazy like that lady on Time magazine.  There's a lot of things I've failed at as a mother, but breastfeeding is not one of them.  So, I think I'll get Opal this shirt...

I mean when your two your old says, " I love you, Mommy.  Want some booby, Mommy," in the same breath, what are you gonna do? 

L'eggo My....Poop?

Just another night in the tub. Opal is gripping an old waffle she found leftover from breakfast. Rather than pry it from her hands and endure a hissy fit, I let her take it in the tub with her. I choose my battles. So the waffle turns soggy of course. I call Chris into the bathroom to watch over the bathing beauties while I try on a pair of jeans. Hand-me-downs from my friend. Someone had given them to her and of course they were too big. She played it off like they weren’t long enough for her long legs, but I know that’s code for, “These are too big for me so I thought you could wear them.” I told her to not even think about it unless they were in the double digits because I haven’t seen a size eight in years. “Oh of course you can wear them. Have you been working out?”  OK fine I’ll take them. So while the children are in the tub I muster up the energy to try on the largest of the three pairs of size eights. I suck it in and hold my breath. Literally. I buttoned them. I couldn’t breathe. But my butt looked pretty dang good in them. That’s when it happened. Chris and I were both admiring my assets in the bathroom mirror when he looks over and sees something on the bathroom floor…”Is that POOP?!!” he says. As I take off the jeans, I casually reassure him, “Oh, no that’s just soggy waffle.” “Well, it looks like poop.” I reassure him that Opal entered the tub with a waffle and that was the remnants of it that Cannon was throwing out of the tub. “That’s a lot of waffle.” I pick up the “waffle” with some toilet paper. “Wait, maybe that IS poop!” I am convinced as another handful of actual POOP splatters ON MY LEG! “Yes! that IS poop,” I confirm. Cannon proceeds to throw the entire poop that he has just deposited in the bathtub OUT of the bathtub. Poor Opal is sitting in the tub with her brother and his poop. So now, I am in my underwear, cleaning poop off the floor and hosing down babies. After I scrub the tub, the floor and the children, I turn to my husband (still in my undies), and ask him if he still thinks this booty is sexy.

The Sweetest Thing

I always wonder if I would have breastfed Cannon longer than the fourteen months that I did had I not been pregnant with Opal.  It was so sweet nursing him to sleep and then one day he went to bed without me and that was that.  I feel like I missed a lot of sweet, tender moments with him during my pregnancy with Opal as she was quite hard on me:)  Though Cannon is very educated when it comes to "Mommy's boobies" he's never tried to nurse me since Opal's been born.  He's been in a "Mommy" mode lately.  Today he told Opal, "No, no, no, Opal, I want to see Mommy!"  So at night when I'm putting Opal to bed in her room, nursing her, Cannon comes in ever so sweetly.  "Hey Mommy.  I want to sit beside you.  I want to snuggle you."  It just melts my heart.  So I told him he could sit on the bed beside me and lay his head on my shoulder. So there we are, Opal in my arms nursing, and Cannon on my shoulder snuggling.  It's the sweetest thing ever.  Now almost nightly he comes in with his blanket while I'm nursing Opal, and says in the sweetest two-year-old voice, "I want to put my head on your shoulder, Mommy."  Well, climb on up here, baby.  And there we sit, the three of us snuggling.  Precious moments that I'll cherish always. 


On a side note, Cannon's booby vocabulary can be quite hilarious.  Cannon knows his full name is Cannon Michael Martin.  Sometimes he refers to himself as "Cannon Michael Tractor." Chris was teasing him today calling him, "Cannon Michael Who" (referencing the Grinch).  So Cannon says, "Cannon Michael WHO. Cannon Michael BOO.  Where's YOUR booby, Mommy? Under your shirt!  Where's your milk, Mommy? Under your shelter!" 

Running with Babies

Some folks are probably annoyed that I refer to my kids as "babies."  Even my two year old tells me he's not a baby, he's a big boy.  Well, big boys pee-pee in the potty, son!  ha.  But they are MY babies and they still require a stroller when we go certain places.  Like running around the neighborhood, which Oh yes I did!  I googled "couch to 5K" and got my post-baby booty in gear.  I've only done it one day so far, but it felt good and yes there were moments as I was pushing 50+ pounds of BABIES uphill that I felt like "supermom"!  And I will Turkey Trott my flabby turkey ass through 5Ks come November 17.  That's only five more weeks to do a nine week program, but hey, I'm supermom.  I might even sip a latte while I'm running and get one of those "3.2" stickers to go on my SUV.  I've recently seen "0.0" stickers on cars which did make me laugh out loud, but that's not gonna be this mama!  See ya at that finish line:)

I make milk.....AND babies, what's YOUR superpower?

I've come to the realization that for the past three and a half years I have been pregnant and/or breastfeeding.  Crazy.  What body? I honestly don't remember what it used to be like.

A meeting at work today somehow ended with birthing stories share time.  I love talking about my babies being born.  Such precious memories.  And it reminds me how I'm sure I don't want to go through it again.  It's also true that there's always going to be someone's birthing story that is more dramatic and traumatic than yours and there's always one that's way easier and more euphoric than yours. 

This is also true of life.  Someone's always fighting a greater battle than me.  And there's someone who's got it easier.  I guess we're all stuck somewhere in the middle.  Life is hard sometimes.  At the end of the day I have these sweet babies to come home to.  I love them more than anything or anyone. 

Ain't No Shame In My Game

This is my kitchen.  And my laundry room.  I think the washer/dryer looks awesome wedged up against the fridge personally.  No kitchen is too small for an island/clothes folding station.  No, your eyes haven't deceived you...there's no dishwasher!  Well, there is, you just can't see me because I'm taking the picture! ha!