On the Job

Mom is managing to hold down the fort without Dad just fine -- thank goodness that I'm good at multi-tasking, since both babies invariably need or want me at the very same time! I think Molly purposely decides that she's hungry whenever I put Max in his high chair and start fixing his meal. Max has been fairly crabby the last few days -- he either misses Dad or his eyeteeth are making another push! Max and I did discover a new favorite video on the Net. Although this was the talk of the Internet a couple of years ago, Max thinks that the infamous Numa Numa Dance by Gary Brolsma is very entertaining (who knew that living in your parents' basement could get you so far in life? ;) After repeated viewings, we began to realize that Molly bore a striking resemblance to the Numa Numa guy. Can we say Baby Numa?

I think we've moved past the jinx stage -- Molly is officially a nursling. :) The big, green pump has been unplugged and is en route to the closet. Having to work a little harder for her supper doesn't appear to have interfered with Molly's weight gain at all -- at last night's weigh in she tipped the scales at a whopping 9 lbs, 9 oz. She's outgrowing her newborn clothes, so I'd better get out the box of 0-3 clothes that I have waiting in the wings. I have decided that the much-praised Boppy nursing pillow is really pretty useless for nursing. It makes a great arm rest and it's a wonderful place to prop up reflux-y babies while you clean bottles or pump parts, but it really doesn't facilitate the nursing process much at all. With Max, I thought it just didn't work well because he was so small, but it doesn't work any better with Molly. The babies always slide down into the "Boppy hole" between the pillow and your stomach, which makes things fairly awkward if you're trying to get a fussy baby to latch. So, I've gone back to the basic cradle hold and demoted the Boppy to the position of glorified arm rest. ;)

I'm slowly catching up with a few projects around the house (and I do mean slowly). I am proud to report that the refrigerator has been thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom. Happily, the life forms that were evolving in the back of the fridge had not quite reached sentience, so we didn't have any problematic Prime Directive conflicts to resolve. (I'd like to point out that I can only make such a geeky TNG reference because I did, in fact, live in my parents basement at one point.) I have my six-week post-partum checkup this week, so I should be cleared to return to a normal level of activity (like chasing a toddler and toting around a newborn isn't activity enough for anyone). That means that my guilt-free loafing period is about to expire and it's time to get back into an exercise routine and start eating better. Tomorrow. ;)