My love/not-so-love-relationship with my post-partum body

Jul 21, 2014 by

I won’t call this a love/hate relationship, because there is no part of my body that I hate, but I wouldn’t always call us best friends, either.

Prior to having a baby, I’d say I had a pretty decent body image. I was embracing the new curves that came late in my twenties, which fleshed out even more while in culinary school. After being all elbows and knees in high school and college, I welcomed the opportunity to look a little more…womanly. My husband has an amazing habit of complementing me and making me feel confident in my body size and shape, so that helped a lot. I was comfortable with my personal style and wore what I liked but also what I thought might flatter my body type the most. Just like anyone else, I did what I could to minimize the muffin top, but didn’t give much thought to my body beyond that. That was it—I thought about my body, but was comfortable enough to not give it a second thought.

One day, I will wear dangly earrings again

Jul 14, 2014 by

One day, I will wear dangly earrings again.  For now, I will gladly wear my studs and welcome the grabby hands of this little bundle of activity as he clutches my face and leans in for a kiss.

He's got quite a grip, I need to watch out!  Photo credit genagolas.

He’s got quite a grip, I need to watch out! Photo credit genagolas.


One day, I will wear nice clothes outside of work.  For now, I’ll settle for casual tees and jeans for any occasion so I can snuggle my little man and not care at all that I am covered in drool, snot and spit-up.

His future spouse is gonna LOVE this!  Photo credit genagolas.

His future spouse is gonna LOVE this!  Photo credit genagolas.

One day, I will eat a hot dinner…before 9:00pm.  Bedtimes will get easier and quicker, although I do fully accept it could be years before I have a hot meal.  Until that happens, I will willingly rock, shush and nurse to sleep as much as needed.

Where working moms pump in Connecticut

Jul 7, 2014 by

Since returning to work, I’ve become somewhat fascinated/obsessed with the practice of pumping at work**.  Pumping while at work has been sort of a necessary evil for me as I try to reach the one-year mark of breastfeeding my baby boy.  I diligently pump twice a day while away from Lenny, but I’ve developed a physical reaction to pumping–I get a wave of nausea every time the pump latches on.  Needless to say, while I am fortunate to be able to breastfeed and do enjoy nursing my son, I just may throw myself a little party when I no longer have to pump.  But I digress.

Pumping at work is hard enough, so it is essential that employers are supportive of breastfeeding moms.  Us Nutmeg-State-ers are actually among the lucky few; Connecticut is one of only twelve states that mandate any sort of workplace pumping requirements.  Melanie has written an excellent post discussing the Connecticut law.  In a nutshell:

Giving my son a bottle for the first time

Jun 23, 2014 by

Having my son drink from a bottle is not a new thing—he gets fed both breast milk and formula from a bottle by anyone who is watching him during the day when I’m not around. However, when Lenny and I are together, I breastfeed him. As exhausting as it can get, I enjoy being the one to feed him when he wakes in the morning, as part of our bedtime routine each night, all day on the weekends, and overnight as many times as he needs it.

Although I’m not opposed to formula, I do try to feed Lenny as much breast milk as possible. I didn’t fully appreciate it until I became a mom, but I find breastfeeding fascinating. My milk provides my son with the exact nutrients he needs at the exact time he needs them. It is plentiful in the morning to give him a hearty start to his day, and fatty at night to fill his tummy and help him sleep better at night. It’s amazing what our bodies can do.

You know you’re a working mom when…

Jun 16, 2014 by

You are the first one to leave work at the end of the day because you have to pick your kid up from daycare.

I feel super awkward walking by my coworkers’ offices on my way out the door but, seriously, that “five dollars for every five minutes past 6:00” policy our daycare has scares me to death. We’re already paying the equivalent of our mortgage each month towards daycare, so outta my way if I’m running late. As it is, I’m always either the last or second-to-last parent picking their kid up right before the clock strikes 6:00, so it’s not like I ditch work early and mosey on over to daycare. I wonder how my fellow coworker parents manage leaving any later.


Your nice work clothes always have a mystery stain on them.

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