Got Milk?

There are probably 100,000 different things I should be doing RATHER than blogging… but I’ve deprived myself LONG enough. You know those tags that people put on their cars… “I’d rather be Diving” or “I’d rather be Fishing”? Well… I need one that says, “I’d RATHER be BLOGGING.” BECAUSE it is my only source of venting ALL of my joys, woes, and utter and complete annoyances.

I SHOULD be taking a shower right now, but Brooklyn informed me that SHE needed a bath. AND, considering she is covered in dirt from HEAD to toe, you would think I’d agree… BUT it’s a toss-up. Dirt seems less “dirty” when compared to BABY spit-up, baby poop, baby pee, and (I’m guestimating here…) about 1 to 2 gallons of breast milk. I am sticky in places I didn’t know could GET sticky. AND, as I type, milk is draining down my shirt. SERIOUSLY- I’m about to duct tape the valves closed.

OKAY- TOWEL is wrapped around me so I can finish complaining about breast milk. #1- I know it is a blessing to be able to breastfeed because so many can’t… I completely acknowledge that fact and I am so very grateful to have the ability to feed my child. #2 THAT being said- “My boobs done got me confused with OCTO-MOM… I had ONE baby. NOT EIGHT.” #3- THAT SECOND thing being said- I’m looking into donating my breast-milk to help premature infants. The closest place is in TEXAS for now… (but they pay shipping) BUT, for all you other MILK MAKERS that might be interested, a donating place is being built in Madison, MS! But anyway- if the lady EVER calls me back- I’ll be shipping my booby juice to the great infants of TX. We’ve been told time and time again (that is my church peeps) to HONE and SHARPEN our talents. WeLL- I’ve been trying to scout me out a talent for a LONG time. What if this is my ONE talent? MILK PRODUCTION. (I’ll probably be reincarnated as a COW…). Anyway… I have to PASS before I can donate… but maybe it can go to use.

SOOOO let me talk about a happier thing. BRIGHTON! My little Gremlin! (Starling has started calling him that… I REALLY hope it doesn’t stick). SOMETHING ELSE I don’t want to stick. BRIGHT. Okay- I’m making the BIG ANNOUNCEMENT now so I don’t have to HURT anyone feelings later… It utterly URKS me when people say, “Hey baby Bright!” or “Its Bright Bright!” His name is… well… it’s WHAT it is ENOUGH without making it WORSE. If Brighton MUST be shortened to something, Brooklyn calls him “Bry, Bry” which is ok with me. Its dumb too… but LESS so then BRIGHT. (And I just LOVE how I TOLD my parents that I can’t stand him to be called BRIGHT and they are like, “WELL, I’m calling him Bright Bright”). Ugh.

BUT I digress… we’re talking HAPPy! Well, my little man is an absolute doll… the cutest, sweetest little grasshopper I’ve ever seen. He rarely ever cries. BUT he is VERY vocal with his noises. He has a very distinct “I’m hungry” grunt that is demonstrated along with him rooting like an armadillo. I can go ahead and feed him and he’ll never cry. Only when his grunts and rooting are ignored for a WHILE does he resort to crying. It’s AWESOME! (AND he’ll be two weeks tomorrow soooo pretty much everything I’m saying will probably be a whimsical past in like… THREE days. But I’m relishing in the GOOD present before the BAD present comes). He seems to be very mild tempered, but awfully jumpy. Like if he’s asleep (which is pretty much ALWAYS) and I touch his arm, his little reflexes send his arms and legs sprawling out like a falling cat. And (it’s so funny to watch) he gets a twitch in his leg like a dog does when it gets scratched in its special spot. And I already mentioned how grunty he is. When he’s asleep and I pick him up he GROANS and GRUNTS, I suppose to protest me disturbing the peace. And everyone keeps asking me if he’s a good sleeper. HMMM… NO. He wakes up at night. He doesn't cry or anything. He just opens his eyes and watches me… so of course I can’t go to SLEEP… it’s like the ONLY time he’s awake so I just talk to him and stare at him. And then I’ll fall asleep and I suppose he eventually does, too. BUT that’s his poo time, also. Now when my little man is working up a job it takes a relatively LARGE amount of effort on his part. He likes to be lying completely flat, not being held, so he can kick those legs. His face turns into a tomato and he goes to grunting like a little pot-belly pig. And just when you think his little head is about to pop from being so red and scrunched, a BOMB will go off letting you know it’s time to change a diaper, an outfit, a blanket, and possibly the sheets. AND usually I don’t let the little dude FINISH squirting his mustard, simply faulty gestimation of completion, and he blows me away as soon as I wipe his little tushy hole. He has also become increasingly talented at peeing out the side of his diaper no matter HOW well I PUSH that little pee pee generator straight down in the diaper. He doesn’t pee on me every time I feed him… he mostly reserves his urine escape for when I’m completely dressed and about to go somewhere.

So I was laying in my bed with Brighton, because I cannot leave him in a bassinet OR crib. (I have attempted it several times. BUT he makes noises all night and I can’t tell if it’s a distress grunt or a “I’m just awake over here chillin” grunt. And so I have to keep checking him to the point its easier if he’s touching me and I KNOW he’s fine. PLUS, he scoots around too much. He can scoot all over the crib and leave his blanket behind. We keep it WAY too cold in our room for him to scoot away from the covers. AND he prefers to lay on his side and will flail his arms and legs until he is successfully in his position. He doesn’t make all that racket when he’s lying next to me. He’s very restful until he gets hungry or has to poop). BUT ANYWAY- I was laying in my bed with Brighton. Brooklyn was lying on the other side of me and then Starling. Charkley was lying on the other side of Brighton. (Our little family ALL crammed up in a row. I wish I had a picture. Someone sneak into my house while we’re sleeping and take one. . I’d love to see how we look all piled in there). GOSH- I can’t keep on one thought… ANYWAY I was just laying there thinking how Brighton has the tiniest little spit ups, like just the milk in his mouth, not even REAL spit-up. I thought.. MAN, could it really be that I have TWO kids that don’t really spit up?? Did I get that BLESSED? Well, I wasn’t praying, but God went ahead and answered me. Brighton PROJECTILE vomited ALL over me. THREE times. IN A ROW. “Okay…” I thought looking upward… “That’s a NO.”

My nights haven’t really been that good, actually. For one, I wake up in the middle of the night to find my kid’s head in a puddle of breast milk. I stuff milk catchers in my sports bra, but those pads gets soaked in two seconds flat and then milk just starts shooting out like Mt. Saint Helen shot out lava. And so I TRY to FORCE Brighton to eat more, but he can’t eat and poop and he’s ALWAYS got to poop when he OUTTA be eating. And I CERTAINLY don’t want to PUMP at night and INCREASE my milk supply. (sigh… back to my first idea… duct tape). So basically, instead of getting up every hour to go pee like when I was pregnant, I get up every hour to change a diaper, change my bra, find a towel and put down on WHATEVER is all over my bed rather it be pee, poop, or milk, PLOP it down on top of the wet spot and just go back to sleep. CLEANING the bed? Not in the middle of the night… no point… it’ll happen again maybe three or four more times… before morning. AND when morning comes I’m DEAD. And BROOKLYN NEVER wants to sleep at night. She will get in her big girl bed but will sing at the top of her lungs and then get up and be wired. FINALLY we’ll be too exhausted to care anymore and when she falls asleep in our bed we just LET IT BE. I did carry her back to her bed last night. That went well. I got thirty minutes of uninterrupted sleep before she woke up screaming and was BACK in my bed.

But when I wake up in the morning to my little man in front of me sleeping so soundly in a puddle of breast milk with poop running down his leg, and turn to see Brooklyn sprawled out next to me, FEET still firmly planted in my BACK, and glance over at Starling with his mouth hanging open and an occasional snore escaping his lips, I just smile (or get all sappy and cry... depending on my hormone levels). All the ruined clothes and all the sleepless nights in the world wouldn't make me regret having my little family. I don't even get upset when I get sprayed down with Brighton's little hose. (I do scream. Every time. Like after 10 times its STILL a shock to me). I'm just so thankful I have my babies. AND speaking of babies... and SLEEP… I’m so tired I’m about to fall into a coma. HOPEFULLY I can get to TODAY’s ventures tomorrow.