Appreciating the small things this weekend. I was super annoyed going into this weekend. I had great plans. A beach day with friends on Saturday and brunch with more friends on Sunday. Family dinners at my dad’s house and in-laws house both days and the excitement of watching Emma meet new friends (my beach day friend has 2 adorable children) and enjoy the beach. All squashed because the cold I caught from Emma turned into a nasty sinus infection with a hacking cough and I am gross to be around. That meant another weekend stuck at home with nothing to do. I was throwing myself a pitty party for days. And then I got the news, my high school friend’s beautiful 4-year-old daughter passed away on Thursday morning from E Coli. And it happened so fast. She exhibited signs of a stomach virus on Friday. Her parents took her to the ER on Monday thinking she had dehydration from the diarrhea and vomiting. By Wednesday she was on dialysis as her kidneys started to fail but her parents were hesitantly optimistic, asking for prayers that once she came off dialysis (because of course she would!) there would be no long term damage. And then she passed away on Thursday morning. Everyone is in shock. How could this have happened to such a wonderful family. Two weeks ago I was   checking out her Facebook pictures of her children in Disney’s Aulani resort, her daughter dressed up as Elsa and having the time of her life. We didn’t stay in touch (outside of Facebook) after high school but Hawaii is small and I am in need of friends. I figured it was only a matter of time before I either bumped into her or texted her to go for coffee one of these days, kids in tow of course. Last night Emma refused to go to sleep at her bedtime. If I hadn’t heard the horrific news it would have been a night of battling it out with her, refusing to budge and let her stay up, while Emma would work herself into a tizzy screaming. Instead I pulled her out of her crib and brought her into the kitchen to have dinner with me and Ryan. She sat on my lap and I tried not to drop too many crumbs in her hair. An hour and a half past her bedtime I carted her back downstairs, kissed her goodnight and she fell right asleep. It was the best night. I cannot wait to spend the weekend at home with Ryan and Emma.

Appreciating the small things this weekend.

I was super annoyed going into this weekend. I had great plans. A beach day with friends on Saturday and brunch with more friends on Sunday. Family dinners at my dad’s house and in-laws house both days and the excitement of watching Emma meet new friends (my beach day friend has 2 adorable children) and enjoy the beach. All squashed because the cold I caught from Emma turned into a nasty sinus infection with a hacking cough and I am gross to be around.

That meant another weekend stuck at home with nothing to do. I was throwing myself a pitty party for days.

And then I got the news, my high school friend’s beautiful 4-year-old daughter passed away on Thursday morning from E Coli. And it happened so fast. She exhibited signs of a stomach virus on Friday. Her parents took her to the ER on Monday thinking she had dehydration from the diarrhea and vomiting. By Wednesday she was on dialysis as her kidneys started to fail but her parents were hesitantly optimistic, asking for prayers that once she came off dialysis (because of course she would!) there would be no long term damage. And then she passed away on Thursday morning. Everyone is in shock. How could this have happened to such a wonderful family. Two weeks ago I was checking out her Facebook pictures of her children in Disney’s Aulani resort, her daughter dressed up as Elsa and having the time of her life.

We didn’t stay in touch (outside of Facebook) after high school but Hawaii is small and I am in need of friends. I figured it was only a matter of time before I either bumped into her or texted her to go for coffee one of these days, kids in tow of course.

Last night Emma refused to go to sleep at her bedtime. If I hadn’t heard the horrific news it would have been a night of battling it out with her, refusing to budge and let her stay up, while Emma would work herself into a tizzy screaming. Instead I pulled her out of her crib and brought her into the kitchen to have dinner with me and Ryan. She sat on my lap and I tried not to drop too many crumbs in her hair. An hour and a half past her bedtime I carted her back downstairs, kissed her goodnight and she fell right asleep. It was the best night.

I cannot wait to spend the weekend at home with Ryan and Emma.

No tattoos for my kid! At least for now…

I have the quintessential girly-girl tattoo on my left shoulder… A butterfly. As a side note, I did get it after being devastated by my parents divorce and wanting something to signify that things would get better… But nevertheless, it is the typical every-girl-has-one tattoo.

The other day Emma was crawling around me (or scooting on her butt… She doesn’t crawl… Strange kid… Anywho…) while I was pumping and started whimpering and pointing at my back. I didn’t understand so I gave her a Duggar-style side hug to make her feel better and instead she started crying. I finally figured it out when she started pulling at the skin around my left shoulder blade… Hard. She was trying to remove the butterfly tattoo. (In other words, my 11 month old is braver than me – if a bug scares ME I run the hell away!)

I forgot about that incident until the same thing happened two more times… Now I’ll try to remember to keep that tattoo under wraps around her – and to remind her about this story one day when she tells me she wants to get a tattoo of her own.

zackisontumblr:

Shout out to all bugs that stay away from me, you rock keep doing what you’re doing

Being back in a tropical climate after 16 years in the northeast is a fun filled re-introduction to all the gross bugs out there (looking at you flying B-52 cockaroach). But for the (seemingly very small) population of bugs that aren’t everywhere I turn…. I salute you.

(via smthingtopassthetime)

Emma said her first word yesterday. In my competitive quest to make sure that first word would be “mama” and not “dada” I forgot about the other silent threat in the house. Emma’s first word was cat.

It actually sounds more like Gaaaaaa but she definitely means the cats. Sigh, 2 months of just you and me kid, and I lost out to the cats!!!

About Breastmilk (you’ve been forewarned)Before I gave birth, I never really thought much one way or the other about breastfeeding my child other than the (completely unknowledgeable) thought of how it is the best weight loss scheme ever - no effort and the weight comes flying off. No effort…. hahahahahaha.Until Emma was around 9 months old I had no supply issues. In fact, I had to dump half of what I produced for a good 3 months due to a serious infection I had and I still had enough to not only feed Emma but to leave CT with a 500 oz excess supply that I handed over to two of my friends with babies the week before I left.So while my stance with everyone else is: do what you want re: formula/breastmilk, you know your body and your baby best… I figured since I was lucky enough to not have any issues, I would pump through her entire first year of her life.And then when Emma was around 9 months old, it all changed. I think a lot had to do with my pumping schedule. A new job, “single parenting”, a house to unpack… I definitely cut back on how often and how long I was hooked up to that blasted pump machine. And my supply paid the price.So now after all the pain and aggrevation of pumping each day (because I gave up on actually breastfeeding Emma when she was about 1.5 months old), I have very little to show for it. So little that the special dairy-free formula has been purchased for the day when my excess supply that I’ve been using to supplement my current production finally runs out. Every day I think about quitting but feel I’m so close to that (self-created) finish line I have to keep on going. So I write myself a little countdown every day to get me there. 35 more days! What what!Sorry this has being a long post about breastfeeding / pumping.

About Breastmilk (you’ve been forewarned)

Before I gave birth, I never really thought much one way or the other about breastfeeding my child other than the (completely unknowledgeable) thought of how it is the best weight loss scheme ever – no effort and the weight comes flying off. No effort…. hahahahahaha.

Until Emma was around 9 months old I had no supply issues. In fact, I had to dump half of what I produced for a good 3 months due to a serious infection I had and I still had enough to not only feed Emma but to leave CT with a 500 oz excess supply that I handed over to two of my friends with babies the week before I left.

So while my stance with everyone else is: do what you want re: formula/breastmilk, you know your body and your baby best… I figured since I was lucky enough to not have any issues, I would pump through her entire first year of her life.

And then when Emma was around 9 months old, it all changed. I think a lot had to do with my pumping schedule. A new job, “single parenting”, a house to unpack… I definitely cut back on how often and how long I was hooked up to that blasted pump machine. And my supply paid the price.

So now after all the pain and aggrevation of pumping each day (because I gave up on actually breastfeeding Emma when she was about 1.5 months old), I have very little to show for it. So little that the special dairy-free formula has been purchased for the day when my excess supply that I’ve been using to supplement my current production finally runs out. Every day I think about quitting but feel I’m so close to that (self-created) finish line I have to keep on going. So I write myself a little countdown every day to get me there. 35 more days! What what!

Sorry this has being a long post about breastfeeding / pumping.

I ordered 2 lunches today and the person that packed up my to-go order only put enough utensils in for one person. I don’t appreciate her assuming they were both for me.

I mean, they totally were both for me… I just thought it wasn’t obvious.