Milk Milk, Lemonade…

 

spraying milk color final

This post is dedicated to the poor souls who are accidentally getting pregnant while they’re still nursing their infants…

I’ve been hearing a lot about women who think they can’t get pregnant if they’re breastfeeding. Apparently, some obgyns are telling their patients that breastfeeding is a viable form of birth control! Who are these doctors?! I’m so happy my midwife is not a moron.

We are currently trying to decide if we should have a baby now or wait until Liam is a little older. As tempting as it is to wake up ten times a night with a newborn, while simultaneously attending to the needs of a tantrum throwing toddler, I think we’re going to wait.

My stance right now could have something to do with the fact that my son is currently piling his oatmeal onto his lap. It kind of reminds me of my great grandmother who, when she really started to lose her marbles, used to stuff silverware in her sheets. Ohhhh Grandma!

Failed Drawings Part 2: Crippled Horse Legs and The Fence Adding Technique

When I was a kid, I loved to draw. When I wasn’t drawing women in ball gowns, I was drawing horses. For some reason, I never managed to obtain a reference photo of a horse, and ended up with horses that had back legs that looked like someone had taken a crowbar and smashed the knees back in the wrong direction. Do horses even have knees? I don’t know. Seems to me like they bend in two places, kind of like a finger. Anyway, the pictures usually looked something like this:

horse crooked back legs

So, I could post images of a well drawn horse, but why do that when I can implement the discovery I made as a kid?! I found a way to avoid drawing certain subject matter. I call it the “Fence Adding Technique.” It’s a great tool to have anytime there is something you can’t draw or are too lazy to obtain a reference photo.

horse with fence

Notice when the unsightly, crippled legs are strategically placed out of site, the subject matter has the potential to be improved across the board.  In this case, the horse now dreams of some day becoming a unicorn, the details in the grass are more apparent, and there is even a pretty pink flower that has sprouted from the soil. Also, let’s note that this horse is decidedly more attractive than the first one with the crappy legs, all thanks to the “Fence Adding Technique.”

The same idea can be applied in different ways. If you are unable to draw hands, for example, then all the characters in your drawings can be wearing mittens. Same goes for feet – they can all be wearing socks…and so on. Just so it is clear, the idea is that you take something you can mostly draw and hide the parts that you have continually failed to render accurately. Let’s face it, drawing hands and feet really sucks. Plus, there is endless entertainment to be had with socks and mittens, especially if the characters you’re drawing are naked.

Crappy hands and feet

Or maybe you don’t know how to draw socks or mittens either. Just like the horse, you can have your characters standing behind a fence too!

girl with fence

Or Maybe you can draw the feet, but not the hands, then you can simply have your character standing with their hands in their pockets:

girl hands in pockets

or coyly placed behind their back:

girl hands behind back

Now, of course, if i wanted to improve as an artist and get better at drawing all things, I could reference a photograph, and practice. I have done this before and I can tell you, it wasn’t half as fun.

Failed Drawings Part 1: Scary Babies

As I stated in my about page, there are a few things that I cannot draw: the back legs of a horse, cute babies, and myself. These are things I’ve actually tried to draw and have found that sometimes the practice just makes things worse.

I wanted to share my attempts at drawing my baby, Liam. Some of them are from when he was brand new, and some are more recent. All of them are scary for various reasons. I apologize if anyone is genuinely disturbed by these images. I know I scared the shit out of my husband when I showed him.

Attempt #1

creepy baby grocery cart

This was done from a photograph of when Liam and I went to Trader Joe’s. After I finished drawing his face, I sort of gave up on the rest of his body, because it quickly became pretty obvious that there was no hope to make it resemble a cute baby, let alone my baby. Ugh. This one gives me the creeps. I call it Creepy Baby.

Attempt #2

gremlin baby
Nooooooo! This one will give anyone nightmares. Somehow I managed to draw an even creepier baby. This looks like a cross between a gremlin and a chucky doll. This is called Creepier Baby

Attempt #3

open mouth baby

I guess this is a little better in that it’s not creepy? It still looks nothing like Liam though. I don’t know why but I feel like this is what a male model baby would look like. I don’t particularly find this baby to be good looking. Maybe it’s the chiseled jaw line. So, of course I’ll have to call it Blue Steel Baby. (If you don’t know what Blue Steel is, that’s because you haven’t seen Zoolander, which is a big mistake.

 

Attempt #4

fat man baby

Fat Man Baby

 

Attempt #5

bald powder baby

Okay, this is what Powder would have looked like as a newborn. Sorry, I’m going to have to call this one Baby Powder. Terrible.

This is Powder:

Powder

If you haven’t seen Powder, definitely go watch it. I don’t remember it being very good, but it’s worth a watch because he’s really pale and he’s always crying.

Tales of the Mundane

washing dishes 1

Being a mom is exactly like the rest of life. Sometimes it’s easy and sometimes it’s really hard. Typically, the hardest times are when you cannot accept the things that are out of your control. I can hate life if I cannot accept the fact that I have to wake up in the middle of the night to nurse, clean the kitchen several times a day, go grocery shopping, make dinner, and take a shower so that I don’t frighten people by my lack of personal hygiene.

We all have bad days, with or without a baby. The difference is that when you have a baby, if you allow yourself to wallow in your shitty day, you’ll feel ten times shittier than before. When you have a baby, whenever you are a sorry excuse for a human, you feel guilty about it. I know any time I am not at my best, I feel like I’ve failed as a mom. Logically I know I haven’t, but I can’t stop thinking that one fit of tears or burst of rage could condemn my child to a life time of drug abuse and bad relationships.

Then, there are things that are just undeniably bad, like serious financial problems, illness, and/or death. Luckily, in times of true adversity, I tend to get really calm and have that rare (for me) can-do attitude. When life is truly challenging and it seems like things are so bad that you might actually have to seek professional help, all that’s left to do is let it wash over you – like a massive wave that you know will beat the shit out of you if you try to swim to the surface too soon; It’s just a matter of riding it out. If you really don’t think you can get through it, it’s totally acceptable to seek professional help. In fact, it’s really the only time you can do that without being judged. You can’t seek professional help because your baby is crying for the hundredth time over a crappy diaper. I mean, you can, but people will judge you.

The same approach must be applied to every day annoyances and the new set of issues that come with being a new mom. If possible, I find a way to enjoy the crappy household chores and the endless demands from that little fungus that is my baby (don’t forget, a fungus can also be delicious)!

I find a way to lovingly wash the dishes. I do this by focusing on how much I love my dish soap and crisp new sponge (the blue one is for dishes, and the yellow one is for counter tops). If there’s a really tough pot that wasn’t soaked the night before, I let it sit in hot soapy water, and ten minutes later I climax over how easily the stubborn burnt chicken juice comes right off! I transform the mundane act of dish washing into an experience. This may sound unbelievable or like I’m pulling your chain, but I swear I’m not. Don’t even get me started on my lovely, well washed, highly absorbent, soft cotton striped dish towels that I only allow my husband to use for drying. They have not a spot on them!

I relish in the new ways I can find to distract Liam during a diaper change, rather than obsessing over how irritating he can be when he’s flopping around on the changing table like a goddamn Mexican jumping bean, seemingly trying to wipe his ass on every surface he can find. It is pure ecstasy when my wipes dispenser has just been loaded and warmed the wipes to absolute perfection! A brand new tube of honest company diaper rash cream can be life changing.

Cleaning the floors can fill anyone’s afternoon with joy. My secret is a napping baby, a Miele vacuum that I found on Craigslist, a brand new vacuum bag filled with perfumed vacuum beads, a Sh-mop (that’s the name of the mop I use), and honest company all natural/baby friendly/earth friendly/make you feel like a better person floor cleaner.

I could go on…

I know I should probably be talking about how I do these things for my little family because I love them, and I do. But a big part of it is my on going love affair with cleaning products and diaper station gadgets.

NOTE: I do not make money off of any links to products that I may provide, and my enthusiasm for consumer products does not reflect a lack of meaning or spirituality in my life.

Lovin’ My Post Baby Body: A Self Portrait

I have one friend who just gave birth six weeks ago, a friend who is pregnant with twins, and another friend who is newly pregnant (I am not allowed to tell anyone about her pregnancy – that’s how new it is). It has got me thinking about my pregnancy and the changes I’ve gone through since giving birth. On a completely superficial level, I’ve been thinking a lot about how much my body has changed.

Some things have returned to normal, but there are still some kinks to iron out. There are ways in which my body may never be the same. I have seen some improvement, but basically, one of the biggest changes I’ve noticed are my boobs.

I know for some women, having two different size boobs was an issue way before pregnancy. This was back in the days when getting boobs was a novelty and there was still hope that they’d get bigger. For me, the situation is dire…far more dire than any female navigating the horrors of puberty.

Here is a visual of what we’re dealing with:

One Boob Bigger copy

My left boob produces an insignificant amount of milk, or at least that’s what I suspect. Because of this, Liam has little interest nursing on that side. He’ll do it, but only to appease me. Sometimes he just latches, and doesn’t actually nurse. He’ll even look up at me and just laugh until I give up and flip him to the other side. I hope they make a bra with two different cup sizes. I haven’t Googled it yet, but if it hasn’t been invented, I plan to get it patented, and will submit a video to Shark Tank.

I just looked it up. It exists.

It may seem as though my jokes are an attempt to mask the self-hatred I have for my post baby body. This would be considered sacrilege to the baby community, especially since I had a natural home birth. As unbelievable as it may seem, I actually love my body more now than I ever did throughout my twenties…and by “love”, I mean there’s no time to look in the mirror and hate what I see. It’s love by default, which is still love.

I used to spend hours agonizing over my mushy stomach and the various ways in which it would spill over the waist of my Seven7 for all mankind jeans, which were ALWAYS too low on the hips. Lucky for me (and everyone else), I don’t have a high set butt-crack, which can present a problem with low riding pants.

Now that I’m a mom, I just throw on a pair of comfy high-waisted jeans, tuck in my muffin top, and I’m on my way. There’s nothing better. Well, except maybe if I was to wake up one morning to find that my stretch marks had been replaced by some seriously ripped abs. That might be better.

My First Post on “Hey, That’s My Baby”

I’m sure someone might wonder how I came up with such a brilliant website name. Or maybe not. But I’ll tell you anyway.

I have always loved the movie Reality Bites starring Ethan Hawke, Winona Ryder, Ben Stiller, and two other famous actors who I cannot recall right now (baby brain, baby brain). For those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s streaming on Netflix. Go Watch it, NOW!

In the movie, Ethan Hawke’s character is in a band called, “Hey, That’s My Bike.” I took that band name and replaced the word “bike” with “baby.” So, there you go. That’s the end of the story of how I birthed the title of this blog. Wow, good story. I should mention now, I really don’t like when people say, “Wow, good story,” after you tell a story that’s clearly not a very good story.

Some people might think “Hey, That’s My Baby” is a line from that song that goes, “Hey, That’s my baaaaby! No Sir, don’t mean maaaaybe!” Or maybe not because I just googled that song and the actual line is “Yes Sir! That’s my Baby!” It’s usually being sung by some old time-y cartoon guy from the 1920s, doing the Charleston.

It is 12:37 pm and that means nap-time is almost over. I have to go clean the kitchen (for the 3rd time today) and prepare to attempt to leave the house on time to visit our good friend Betsey. She’s having twins and I need to fondle her giant belly.