Milestones.

In no particular order...

1. The babies will be a year old this Saturday. How did this happen? Wasn’t it just yesterday that we brought them home from the hospital? B. and I grappled for a long time about what sort of celebration, if any, to have, and decided to throw together a last minute cake and ice cream party with just a few friends. We’re broke, the house is a cluttered mess, and I’m not really looking forward to the chaos, but I’d feel bad if we didn’t somehow recognize the day. Not for the babies so much, but for B. and I. That we survived.
   
   
2. I’m no longer pumping. My breasts are entirely gone. And floppy. And small. And sad. I don’t miss pumping at all, but still find myself thinking that I need to out of habit. I wonder how long that’ll take to stop.
   
   
3. Little Boy is done with his helmet and we expect Little Girl to be done this week as well. Their heads look great, Little Boy’s especially. Little Girl still has a small dent at the crown of her head, but nothing that hair won’t cover, and it’s still a dramatic improvement over how flat the back of her head was. I hated the helmets every day they wore them, but am glad we did it. Little Boy has been without his helmet for a couple weeks now, and I’ve been doing my best to catch up with all the smooches and sniffs I’ve been missing. Poor guy probably wonders why his mommy constantly has her face buried in his head. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do with Little Girl too.
   
   
4. I left the babies alone with B. for the weekend and attended my 20th high school reunion back in Ohio. I had a good time and the babies survived just fine. B., however, refuses to admit that it’s difficult to take care of both of them while alone. He’s probably just being stubborn but it chaps my ass, big time. He did admit that he’s probably only doing a fraction of the stuff I’m doing any given day, but still...talk about not feeling validated.
   
   The reunion was somewhat cathartic. I was a total oddball in high school and got picked on a lot. I hated high school enough that I went away to college after my junior year with the full support of my parents but not my high school’s administrators, who refused to give me my diploma until the rest of my class graduated. Whatever. Anyway, several people said some really nice things to me at the reunion. Stuff along the lines of, “you were such an individual,” “I wish I’d known you better,” “I’m sorry if I ever gave you a hard time,” and my favorite, “wow, you’ve really blossomed.”

Good stuff, all.

HUTH

For those not up to speed on exclusive pumping acronyms, that means Hanging Up The Horns, or ending pumping. And so I am. My final regularly scheduled pump was earlier this week. I will not attempt to produce any real amount of breastmilk from here on out. I’ve been down to two pumping sessions a day for several weeks. My output has dwindled to about twenty ounces a day, so we’ve been digging into the freezer stash for awhile.

And yeah, I’m engorged like nobody’s business. I’ve tried the cabbage leaves trick but it doesn’t seem to make much difference. Ibuprofen seems to help the most. I’ve pumped just enough to relieve the pressure a couple of times, but I’m trying to avoid pumping as much as possible. It’ll be interesting to see how long it takes my body to adjust. I do seem to have reached some threshold where I’m as engorged as I’m going to get. I’m staying full, but it’s not getting worse. I’m enjoying large (for me) breasts probably for the last time.

I’m surprisingly sad about stopping. Yes, where I used to tolerate pumping pretty well now I hate it. Yes, I’m looking forward to my body being my own for the first time in years. Yes, it is truly, without a doubt, time to stop. In spite of the myriad of positives I’m more sad than excited to be done. Just one of those developmental milestones that means Little Boy and Little Girl are growing up, I guess. They’ll be a year old later this month, which boggles my mind. Who are these toddlers and what did they do with my two babies?

I’m hoping that the weaning process will be complete in time for my twentieth high school reunion later this month. I’m heading back to my small hometown in Ohio all by myself. Little Boy and Little Girl are staying with B. I, of course, have some anxiety about this, but they’ll be fine. (Oh sweet jeebus, let them be fine...) It’s only for three days. How bad can it be for them, right?

Right?

Vacationed out.

Sorry for the long break between posts, but we’ve been vacationing. The ultimate white trash vacation, in fact, if not intentionally. We attended a small family reunion* in Tennessee and stayed at a “resort” on a lake. Certainly the most generous usage of that word I’ve ever encountered.

I wish I could link to the website for the “resort,” but it’s probably not a good idea, given the not-so-nice things I have to say about it. Here’s a rundown of some of the finer features:

1. The view out of our cabin included a trailer park and several dumpsters.
   
   
2. The pool was green, and the baby pool had a mighty collection of floating dead bugs. This didn’t stop other vacationers from swimming, though. Ick.
   
   
3. We had to relocate out of our first cabin due to a massive ant infestation.
   
   
4. Our second cabin smelled so strongly of cigarette smoke that all our stuff reeked when we left. I have had to wash everything.
   
   
5. The cabins were ancient, low ceilinged, dingy and dirty. After just a few moments of crawling around on the ground the babies were filthy.
   
   
6. There were no phones in the cabin, so no internet. High-speed? Ha! That's funny.
   
   
7. Occupants of neighboring cabins included a family with a John Deere Gator that they drove incessantly around the property, at all hours and at high speeds. And let their children drive at said high speeds. With no helmets, or seat belts, or safety gear of any kind. (Am I that much of a nerd? I think that’s horribly irresponsible.)
   
   
8. It wasn’t cheap. In fact, it was pretty pricey, well over a $100 a night. We had hoped that since B.’s mom & dad were acquaintances with the owners of the “resort” we would get a break on the price, but nope. In fact, they charged us the per person rate for the twins, adding an extra $32 per day to the cost of the cabin. Nice, right? Guess they knew we wouldn’t be coming back and wanted to get their money while they could.

Now, in spite of the less-than-luxurious accommodations, we had a good time. B.’s family is lovely and a delight to be around. We had helpful nieces and nephews eager to spend time with Little Boy and Little Girl, and Grandma and Pop Pop enjoyed their time with the babies as well. We ate a lot of good food, I drank plenty of good wine, and actually did some relaxing too.

Little Girl was more high maintenance than usual during the vacation, but for good reason. She cut two teeth on the bottom and is working on four (!) more on top. Have you ever heard of a baby getting so many teeth all at once? Little Boy? Not a tooth in sight.

That’s the word from this end. Hope your neck is not as red as mine!

*Just to be clear, it’s not B.’s family that’s white trash; in fact, they’re far from it. It was the “resort” and the lake it was on that earned the designation.

And before someone gets their panties in a wad about me calling any person/place/thing white trash, I do mean it with some affection. I’m pretty well in touch with my inner redneck, so white trash is just one step away for me.