Posts Tagged ‘ feeding ’

Emmett and the Boob

Tuesday, February 7th, 2012

I love a nurse who can grab my entire breast and shove it into Emmett’s mouth. The way they do it makes it seem so easy. But on my own, it’s been a bit of a challenge. The technique of holding the boob in my hand and using it to guide E-man on, then using the other arm to prop him up gets quite tiring. This has been the routine for the past 11 days of breast-feeding. However, things are finally starting to get easier.

Neither of my babies had any trouble initially latching, despite the natural community’s warnings about the drugs from labor. Following the C-section,  both he and Fia immediately latched on. And mind you, I had more drugs in me than a Mexican cartel.

Emmett’s issue was that he kept slipping down onto the nipple, which starts to kill after awhile. A very on-the-ball nurse in the hospital discovered what she thought was contributing to the problem. He had a frenulum. It’s underneath and attached to the tongue and can keep the tongue from getting on the boob properly. His wasn’t bad, but we called in the lactation nurse and after some troubleshooting, she too concurred: His tongue was getting tired and he was slipping down.

The day we left the hospital I begged and pleaded, despite it being a Sunday, for an ENT to come in and snip it. I didn’t want any more time to pass and for him to get fussy on the boob.

The procedure took all of 5 seconds. No anesthesia. Very little crying. The guy comes in, snips it and puts him on me to nurse. I think it was a game changer. Ever since, Emmett has latched on better and hasn’t slipped down nearly as much. My boobs thank him for that.

His Tongue is Free! Hooray!

I had never heard of a frenulum. I’m glad someone discovered it and we sniped it in the bud, so to speak.

And, speaking of snipping…here’s our decision on circumcision. 

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Milestone Monday: Memory Lane

Tuesday, November 22nd, 2011

Author’s Note: Join me every Monday as I share Fia’s ongoing milestone (mis)adventures–from potty training to talking to everything in between.  Mayhem and mischief guaranteed on Milestone Monday!

A Special Shakey's Moment

When I was a kid, going out to dinner was a treat. My mom (who passed away in June) ran her own plant business and whenever she had one of her sales, if she did well, that was our reward.  The sale was always on a Sunday at our house in the garage she had converted to a greenhouse. We’d run up to her constantly and look in the cash drawer.

“Mom, do you think you’re making enough for us to go to dinner?”

“Not if you guys keep distracting me from my customers,” she’d say with a laugh.

It was always a toss up between Shakey’s Pizza and Ponderosa. Both had the all-you-could-eat salad bar. At Ponderosa, we loved taking the red plastic tray down the line to pick out side dishes. We always brought our lunch to school, so cafeteria style, complete with hot food was like hitting it big time.  And the vinyl booths both places sported? You couldn’t get more chic.

Shakey’s had the arcade. We’d play the games while we waited for our pizza. And we’d always walk out with some form of trinket junk that would inevitably end up on the floor of the car, or in the hamsters cage a week later, with everyone denying who put it there.

On Sunday, it was pouring rain here in LA. I was stir crazy. I begged Phil to go with me to Lamps Plus. We desperately needed light in our living room. He equates lamp stores to the horrible fabric stores his mom dragged him to as a kid. But after much debate, he agreed. I’ll admit, having a hyper 2-year old running through a crowded lamp store screaming “I pooped!” isn’t ideal, but we found two lights so mission accomplished (btw—she didn’t poop. It just happens to be her favorite sentence).

On the way home, I spotted a Shakey’s Pizza.  Phil was game, seeing as his day was already ruined by the PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) of Lamps Plus. We started to reminisce about our childhood Shakey’s experiences. We got excited to take Fia. We agreed it was a milestone—a rite of passage. Granted, she’s a little young, but we’re overachievers.

It was 5 pm and jam-packed. Phil ordered and I took Fia to the arcade, where she touched every button, even the car pedal on the floor. I was totally grossed out. There were kids running everywhere and I could feel the filth in the air. She won a spin top trinket. The perfect choking hazard.  She was so excited putting her tickets into the machine. “More! More!” she kept yelling.

She was in heaven.

At our booth, Fia kept touching the vinyl part that was ripped, laughing, while trying to destroy the hole further. I grabbed the sani-wipes and went to town on everything— the highchair, table, our hands—even the booth.

At the salad bar, I cringed at the cough guard, trying to forget a Dateline special I saw about the germs on those things.

When the pizza came, Phil and I could barely eat it. Granted, we’re snobby NYC pizza lovers, but this stuff tasted worse than frozen. Fia, who is typically a picky eater, devoured it, all the while playing with her choking hazard toy.  And for once in her life, she couldn’t get enough of the garbanzo beans from the salad bar.  At a nice restaurant she will refuse them. Here, they were like candy. She ate about 33 of them.

That night, all I could think of was how gross I felt; how I have to start exercising and eating better. Fia slept the longest she has in months–12 hours.

As a grownup, I’m a snob with a lot of stuff.  And I guess this is one of them.  I can’t say we’re going to become regulars at Shakey’s. Or ever go there again. But even at the expense of my sanity, I’ll admit, it’s fun traveling down memory lane, marveling at how little we cared about things as kids that we adults get so uptight about. This is the part of parenthood that puts life in perspective. In a good way.

Every once in a while we all need a Shakey’s experience. Tell me yours.

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