I know we’re well past the point of wishing each other a happy new year, but bear with me, I’ve been preoccupied. So, what is New around here?
She arrived. We could say she was 12 days ‘late’ but at this point none of my pregnancies have been shorter than 41 weeks so I should have more sense than to regard a due date as anything more accurate than a game of Pin The Tail On The Donkey. She’s amazing. With a 4.5 year age gap between her and the newly minted Middle Child I feel like a bit of a newbie again. I forgot how many times you have to change their nappies – like, in the middle of the night and everything. She’s a bit pukey, and fussy all evening. So far though, she usually gives me at least one three hour stretch at night. That’s a big deal – I never had that before. I’m sure it’ll all change week to week but I’ll take it where I can get it.
She’s big too, she was 280g (10oz) bigger than both her brothers. I tell people how long she is, bursting with pride as if my pipsqueak genes have anything to do with it. She has her fathers body type right now, and looks like the little big brother who in turn looks a little more like me. It’s hard to see past the next feed but part of me would love a quick glimpse into the future to see what she turns out like. Either way; she’s the most beautiful girl in the world and that’s a fact.
Just kidding, it’s the same body. It’s very hardworking what with the growing and expelling of humans and the feeding of those humans. The floppy belly (much remarked upon by the boy children) and the sporadically rock hard boobs I can deal with. They are a by product of the work my body has done, and though I’m not in love with them, I am sort of in awe of them. My outie belly button isn’t gone away though, so I will need to see a surgeon if that doesn’t right itself. I cannot live with an outie. Yuck. Shudder. Seriously.
Any week now I’ll start on the actual activity, and maybe deal with that floppy belly. We’re still in newborn mode though. I’m running to stand still, rather than running but it turns out I’m still getting a lot of steps in just with school runs and laps of the kitchen. What I would like to petition Fitbit Inc. for is a mode that tracks calories burned by breastfeeding. But not necessarily calories consumed while breastfeeding. Speaking of:
I love eating food. LOVE it. I spent the best part of 10 months with heartburn and a small appetite. Since the second I popped that baba out, I have had an insatiable thirst and hunger. As I type I’m eating corn cakes with peanut butter and an apple. I have found myself in the kitchen eating garlic bread at 4am. I can’t enter that room without foraging. After eating dinner and seconds, most evenings I eat a bowl of cereal/something oat-based, biscuits or crisps, fruit and chocolate. At least I’m trying to maintain a balance.
And coffee. Such a blogger cliché but; ALL OF THE COFFEE.
I’m eating oats for Ireland – both of these recipes have played a part in preventing porridge-fatigue.
- Bakewell Oats from The Wonky Spatula. I always make at least double the portion, usually when the oven is on for dinner. Then I can eat some at night and some for breakfast. It’s also been a handy post-scouts healthy snack for the seven year old.
- Jamie Oliver’s Chocolate Porridge. I made about a third the amount because I wanted to make sure I liked it before I committed to a 12 portion recipe. I *really* like it. I used Nua Naturals Cacao Powder in mine, and a bit of desiccated coconut aswell. So basically, it’s like Bounty porridge. Uh-mazing.
He’s like the fussiest fusspot of a first time dad and he’s her seven year old brother. It’s like having an extra parent around. If she so much as squeaks about 20 seconds after finishing a feed he sticks his nose near her mouth and she promptly goes for it: “Mammy! She’s hungry!”
In the car, when she’s unsettled and I know she’ll quiet down within 30 seconds of moving: “Oh Mammy! I wish we could give her a bottle.” THANKS DUDE, for undermining the fabulous work of my boobs. Or maybe he’s going to go on at me to start pumping next.
Ten times a day: “Can we give her a dodie?” Quite by accident I now find myself raising a mini lactation consultant in training. I patiently explain feeding on demand, how milk supply works, growth spurts and all that jazz. (I fully plan on introducing a soother this time, just not for a few weeks)
On the flip side, I keep finding him gazing at her crooning about how beautiful she is, and how much he loves her. But as I keep reminding him, you can’t be the world’s best brother when you roundhouse kick your other sibling several times a day.
It’s busy. That right there is the understatement of the year. The tiny one has turned us all on our heads and is the boss lady. As well as Mr Fussy Knickers above, the four year old is really perturbed when his post-montessori Paw Patrol is being interrupted: “ah mammy, will you calm her down?”. He’s pretty into her too though.
Also, it takes Mr Properfud ages to kiss us all goodbye when he goes out.
Turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks and third time round even though I’m just a couple of weeks in I’ve learned a couple of new things already. Oh bless ye gods of YouTube for your moving visual representations of how to do absolutely anything.
Laid back breastfeeding! Again, borne of necessity when engorgement, tiredness and me questioning her latch made me try a new feeding position. I can feed and rest at the same time and she’s much less windy. (and Which Boob? app is genius in its simplicity.)
Babywearing! The need to be hands free has reached critical levels, and when I posted this picture on instagram lots of mothers agreed with me that they only cracked the knack of stretchy wraps out of necessity on their third also. And do you know what, I probably wouldn’t have even tried wearing her this early if the Je Porte Mon Bebe wrap had not been passed onto me by a friend. Love it.
Welcome baby girl.