My breasts are going to hate me for this.
Just in time for the Memorial Day Weekend, the Scrapepenny household got hit hard by a stomach bug. Scrapepenny herself was struck down at work, thus removing any dignity she may have once possessed. As the girl was hit a full day before the rest of us, the boy was at home with her at the time, and Scrapepenny had to wait for a lull in his own personal pukefest before he could drive the 20 or so miles to her office and fetch her.
The household's current disinclination towards solids has lead to a remarkable relapse in the nursing department. The last 48 hours have been all boobie, all the time, with no signs of letting up. While at 13 months, we still nurse several times daily, the boob hasn't been a primary food source for months. Heck, we've even stopped with the reverse cycling. Still, they've been doing their level best to keep up with demand.
And holy mother of something, I am dreading the first day back and its ten hours of cold turkey no nursing.
Budget blahs and busy bees.
Toddlers, it turns out, are a much more time-consuming business than babies. Even when the toddler isn't quite to the actual toddling stage yet. Who knew? (Well, fine, anyone who has ever had them around. But there should still be some sort of advanced warning system. Maybe air raid sirens.)
We did, as I feared when I started working again, fall back into the old trap of failing to budget. Did I mention that? I probably did. It's easy to know better, hard to actually put that knowledge to good use. Cooking happens more rarely than it ought to, and while we're better at bringing our lunch to work than we were way back in the days Before Baby, it's still not happening every single day.
And, honestly, if we weren't paying so much for daycare, we'd be doing just fine. I mean, we're paying a new compact car a year for care. One of the nice ones. With actual options. We're not talking base model Kia here. Sadly, we're still at least a year and a half away from a slot in our preferred (cheaper and on campus) daycare.
We're not doing horribly, but we're not stashing anything into savings, and we really need to be doing that.
I keep saying we need to sit down and draw something up, but we've been too busy/tired/sick over the last month to do it.
Sigh.
This turning into a toddler thing is happening so quickly. More words, more will, and mood swings that leave a body with whiplash.
Right now, she's tearing Puffs Plus with Lotion into tiny pieces and protesting my refusal to let her eat the power cable for my laptop. She has what looks like a small army of molars invading her mouth, and the constant pain appears to be pushing any tantrum up to 11. I keep reminding myself that she has a finite number of teeth.
The things you find on the internet...
I've been bra shopping. Well, bra window-shopping. Well, okay, pointing and laughing at all the bras available in my size range so as to not cry, because damn, those are some seriously ugly pieces of clothing.
I have not, however, been looking at nursing bras, as the whole point of this bra quest is find Bras For Work. Well, not looking at them on purpose. The occasional nursing bra has crossed my path. Only one, however, has stood out, but my, does it ever stand out.
I'm so very glad I didn't know this bra existed when I was first stocking my nursing wardrobe. So very, very glad. Because I find it appalling, which means I also find it kind of appealing, which means it would have made its way into my wardrobe.
The
Goddess 1001: turning boobs into stimulating toys for the ultimate baby dining experience.
It brings new meaning to the
Buffy the Vampire Slayer quote about Happy Meals with legs. Or at least a new part of the anatomy...
