WTF

Today in baby music class, which is held outside in Central Park during the summer, a boy picked up a broken piece of glass and chucked it at me, flying by V's giant noggin and hitting me in the arm. It cut me a little and bounced off.

I picked it up and saw it was a piece of a broken beer bottle. The boy smiled at me and ran off. The nanny rushed over and and apologized. I said, "he picked up this piece of glass." and she said, "yeah from over there."

Dear nanny: I meant for you to instruct the boy not to pick up glass, not to tell me where it's from.

Dear boy: fuck you. You little shit.


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Boobs

I wasn't really able to breastfeed V. For reasons that are unknown to me, a woman's milk does not "come in" and populate her breasteses until day 3 or 4 or perhaps even more days after birth. Which really sucks for the hungry baby, who is sucking the shit out of an empty balloon.

My milk did not come in until day 5 if you count the day on which V was born. I woke up one day and I had BREASTS. Not breasts. BREASTS. By that time, V had already lost over 10% of her weight, coming in just above 5 lbs, and her pediatrician said formula was a must. I tried breastfeeding until V was 6 months old, but if you supplement with formula in significant amounts as I had to, it's a losing game. Your body will make as much milk as the baby takes, and so if the baby is not breastfeeding exclusively, your supply drops. By the end, I was pumping for 2 hours to produce 3 ounces of milk, when she was ingesting 24 ounces, sometimes more, of formula a day.

A lot of kids who are breastfed really like boobs. Because it's a source of food, and comfort. They pretend to breastfeed their dollies, and grab at their mommies' boobs when they are hungry.

I didn't think V would be in that camp since it's been a good 5 months since she has really seen my boobs, since I usually remain clothed around her. But as of a couple weeks ago, she has decided she wants to see them. All. The. Time. She is constantly peering down the neck of my shirt. I feel like I'm in high school again. If she can't see, she starts tugging. If I'm wearing a tank top, she can pull my shirt down, and watch out if I'm wearing a bra, because she will start wailing on that shit.

The other morning she woke up way before I was ready to, so I got her, plopped her in my bed, grabbed her foot and fell asleep. I woke up because she had pulled my shirt all the way down to my stomach, and was pinching my boobs. Good morning, weirdo.

It was funny until she tried to do it at the park yesterday in front of a guy parent. It's hard to keep smiling and look nonchalant as you are wrestling the front of your shirt away from the iron grasp of a little chub.

Mock turtlenecks from now on.

Sleep

This morning, V woke up at 5:40 am. I heard her on the monitor, and saw her sitting up. I turned down the volume and tried to go back to sleep--come on, it was not even 6 and I went to sleep at 2. But she started shrieking, so I stumbled into her room and dragged her to my bed, where she pulled my hair, kicked me in the face and ribs and threatened to fall off the bed while I tried to go back to sleep. Finally, at 6:30 ish she fell asleep in a little squishy heap in the middle of my bed. Leaving me wide fucking awake. Babies are glorious.


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My hair is trying to eat my face

Pregnant women don't lose as much hair as they do when not pregnant. I forget why, but their hair grows very thick. After they give birth, they lose the hair relatively soon after. I didn't notice my hair doing anything different, until a little while ago when I saw these little baby hairs growing around my hairline. I suppose they are growing to replace hair I lost. Except now with the humidity, the hair is sticking to my face, creating a nice fringed look. Which would be great if I were a leather jacket, or a pair of moccasins. Unfortunately, I just look like a hairy faced woman.


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Mom groups

I went to a mom group that met at a Whole Foods. It was okay except for the fact that it was 95 degrees outside and I couldn't feel any A/C and I was melting onto the chair.

I also saw a lot of boob. A few moms were breastfeeding their babies, and I kept on turning to them as they whipped out their nipples. I am a fan of breastfeeding, and doing it in public (everyone has a right to eat in public and not be told it is disgusting or, better yet, sexual (if you find the act of feeding a baby sexual, you have some weird fucking problems), and it is a protected activity under NY state law) but seeing nipple was an ACK! surprise.

I was not staring at your nipple on purpose. And nor was I staring.

I know in detail what the ceiling fans in the WF cafe area look like now.


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The next time

I get unsolicited advice from strangers about my baby, I'm going to shove my fist up their bunghole.

Today some lady yelled, "that baby needs a hat!" as she sped through a red light on her bike.

First, no she fucking doesn't need a hat.

Second, you need a gag for your mouth. You need to mind your own business. You also need to observe traffic laws, and you ran a red. May you get backed over by a truck and the city overlook it per their usual way.

I thought of a lot more to say but she can bike faster than I can put words together.


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Workers' comp

I have none, since I have no job, but how about the government cover injuries incurred by parents in the course of nurturing their children?

In the past few weeks, I have been repeatedly whacked in the forehead, stabbed in the eye, punched in the nose, and today, slapped in the face by my little princess. The slap in the face was weird because the other times, she was swinging something around or trying to grab something and accidentally gouged me in the face. But this time, I was lying back on the sofa with my eyes closed, Yanni playing on the iPad, getting my old person groove on, when she just reaches over and SMACK! I opened my eyes and looked at her, and she had this mean "Don't F with me" on her face. Or it might have been a "I hate Yanni, turn that F-ing shit off" face. It's difficult to deal with, because I have never spent more than 15 minutes alone with a child before I had V, and my instinct is to hit back. Of course I restrain myself, but my arm wants to go flying.

In case you skimmed all of that and only focused on "hit back", I DO NOT HIT MY CHILD.
But I do munch on her arms and legs.