You're So Much Like Me, I'm Sorry.

Mr. E tells me all the time that Eli is just like me, personality wise. I can't imagine why he thinks that. It's not like I need constant attention, get crabby when I don't eat, can't take naps, babble on constantly about nothing, find Mr. E absolutely hilarious even he isn't, really, hate going to sleep by myself at night, wear only pajamas, love to stare at the TV, and throw tantrums when I don't get my own way.

Ahem.

The real question is...is my son just like me, or do I have the personality of a three month old?

At least I don't have sweaty neck folds. I'm looking at you, Eli.

Life and Everything Like It

Holy crap, I love Weight Watchers but it is ridiculously hard for me to keep track of anything when people come to visit. And since we have people here visiting ALL THE TIME because we had a baby and all, well, I tend to keep losing and regaining the same 6 and half pounds in the three weeks between visits. But I'm trying to learn from all this and not just keep making the same mistakes over and over again, blah blah blah organic pepper jack. So far it's going eh.

I tried on dresses this weekend because I need one to wear to my cousin's wedding in July and it turns out that below the boobs, I wear a size 8. However, my ta tas are so large they don't fit into a size fourteen! Christ, I have no idea what to do about that one. The reasonably minded would say suck it up and wear a skirt and a shirt but I am just not in the mood for reasonable skirts and shirts and sensible this and sensible that. I really wanted to buy a cute dress and I am super less than thrilled about my huge rack coming in between me and the beautiful relationship I had planned with the Grace dress from J. Crew. I might have to settle for some super cute really overpriced shoes. Maybe take some of the focus downward.

Eli has been montrously unbearably fussy for four or five days. It was to the point where he was nursing ALL THE TIME and there just wasn't anything left and I seriously got freaked out that my body could not keep up or my milk was drying up or I had dieted my son into starvation and the supply was running out or something. He would just latch on and not let go. My body could not keep up and that's saying a lot because usually damn - there is a lot to go around, is all. (At least my giant rack is good for something.) Of course we tried all the usual baby lulling tricks and none of them worked and then I thought to myself "today's kind of chilly, I wonder if I should put this fleece footed sleeper on him?". Moments after I put it on him I swear he gave an immense baby sigh of relief and settled down and took the worlds longest nap and since then we've dressed him in all his warmest winter clothes and he's been a perfect angel and last night he actually slept through the night! At three months old! Jesus. Turns out my child wasn't "fussy" or "going through a growth spurt" or "teething". He was just COLD. Yeah. We're awesome parents.

Someone gave us the McClaren stroller and I love it, Eli loves it, Mr. E loves it. There's your random overpriced baby crap recommendation of the day.

I realized earlier this month to my horror that the Target "capris" that I bought a few months ago to tide me over till my jeans fit me again in 2010 were actually KNICKERS. Something about that seemed not right and also horrifying, so I did go get some more pants and shorts and non knickers at American Eagle which is always an awesome experience because even though their pants fit me freakishly well their store makes me feel like I am nine hundred years old and also I did a scientific test using a real live subject and I can tell you difinitively that there store "music" is loud enough to not only waken but also to severely anger a baby. But I did get cute pants, so really, wasn't it worth it? Also, at first I thought when I went shopping that maybe I would also look for a cute swimsuit to which I can only say now "HA HA, HA HA, HA HA HA HA."

Running is going well. I love running. It's the only thing keeping me sane, some days, I think. And so of course my ankle is fucked up again. Awesome. I am doing the RICE business (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation) except for the rest because hi, I don't rest. I hate rest. No rest for me. Rest is for...normal, non crazy people, who are unlike me.

And lastly. At first I was going to say that the baby smiles are totally worth it, that they are life altering, that they are like nothing in this world. And that is all true, yes it is. But then I heard the baby laugh. And the baby chuckle, the baby giggle, the baby cackle.

The baby smile melted my heart. But to hear my son laugh actually made me cry, it was that great. Truly one of life's top all time great top life moments.

Even Robots Smile Sometimes

Grandpa Peter was quoted in today's New York Times!

Eli found the article utterly absorbing.

998 Left To Go

The thing I am realizing is that with this baby stuff? It DOES get better. It just doesn't get better very quickly. And it's not overly helpful when you are mired in breastmilk and screaming baby and dirty diapers and all that to think "in a month, this will be so much better." However, a month or a week or even a few days later, things do improve, and you have hope again. And it makes all the difference in the world, those few days or weeks or that month, and the tiny bit of better that you gain every day adds up and pretty soon things seem not that bad. Thank god.

I am also working on being more positive. I've realized that I do this nervous thing where I always always always have to talking and there just isn't always that much to talk about and I am afraid that at times (as in all the time) I fill that empty conversation space with bitching and moaning and I've really got to cut that out. I'm going to try just being for a little while to see how that goes. Silence isn't the end of the world, maybe.

Also, today I dragged out the treadmill and I dusted off my running shoes and I crammed myself into my sports bra and I ran two miles! Go me! It wasn't the farthest I've ever run or anything but that I was able to run at all is rather thrilling. And that I did it at all makes me proud, I won't lie. And you know what they say about a journey of a thousand miles.

In other fabulous and exciting news, this weekend I watched - open mouthed, in horror - as Mr. E poured the remains of a bag of potato chips into a carton of dip, stirred it around, and ate it with a spoon!!!!!!!!!! Then I took a picture.

Today Was One of Those Days

Today was not a good day.

Eli is going through some horrible phase or growth spurt or something and all he does is eat and cry. Eat and cry, all day long.

It was ninety six degrees today.

I thought I hated breastfeeding before.

Breastfeeding in seventy degree heat was nothing compared to breastfeeding in ninety six degree heat.

Today was the kind of day where I hauled a screaming three month old around the house on my hip and tried to pick up all the shit my husband just leaves casually all over the house with one hand so that the house wouldn't be a total disaster when his brother showed up and after awhile it really started to piss me off that all this shit was all over the house and I had a vision of myself taking a hammer and just hauling off and breaking all his crap he leaves all over everywhere into a million pieces and the thought of that didn't even make me feel better, it just made me madder.

I pulled a load of laundry out of the dryer and found it covered in red ink splotches from a red pen someone had left in their pants.

My child was still screaming and I had to just leave him in his crib and walk away. I didn't know what else to do. I just couldn't take it anymore.

I started to feel guilty because Mr. E is so stressed out at work right now and he still had to pick up the dog from the kennel and his brother from the airport and groceries from Trader Joe's and then I felt angry again because it's not my stupid dog. I wasn't the one who wanted the stupid dog. Then I pictured Mr. E with his second wife as they gazed lovingly at each other across the top of seven golden retrievers and Mr. E said "my first wife hated dogs".

Eli was still screaming in his crib and I pulled the stained laundry out of the dryer and then I had to walk away and I called my mom and she didn't answer her phone so I sat there listening to her voice mail as tears streamed down my face and I thought "everyone says it gets better, but can six months or one year really be THAT much better? How much better is better, actually?"

And then I went and got Eli and he ate again and then fell asleep on me since that's the only way he can sleep, ever, and I thought how much better I would feel if I could eat all the granola bars in the kitchen or all the Junior Mints in the freezer or all the skittles in the world, and somehow there's no worse feeling in the world than being fat, feeling fat, looking down at your fat arm, and wanting to eat crap, and knowing you can't, because you're fat, fat, fat. It's just very stressful and awful to feel fat and to want to eat and to have to tell yourself you can't because you are fat.

Today was just one of those days.

Friday Weigh In

I lost 6.5 pounds this week! Woo hoo! I love Weight Watchers. It removes all the guilt. I can eat whatever I want, just not ALL of it. Obviously.
Although I have to say that I think if this were my first time doing Weight Watchers, it would be incredibly hard to learn the ins and outs of the program while you had a newborn. Thank goodness I pretty much already know what I'm doing. And thank goodness for those extra 10 Nursing Points. Turns out there is an upside to breastfeeding :)
Mr. E and I are off to San Francisco for the weekend to see some friends of ours. A weekend of pedicures and decaf lattes awaits. (For me - for Mr. it's a weekend of stuffing his face with Mexican food and taming the music snob within at Amoeba Records.) Happy Cinco de Mayo!

Family Portrait