Dave Barry, in his words of wisdom, suggests not taking a sleeping pill and a laxative in the same night. I further add to this, don’t take a fibre drink when you have a newborn. The rest I leave to your imagination. (Actually, it didn’t affect him at all, but it’s hard to put a baby to sleep when you’re making a sudden panicked run for the toilet. OTOH, in a fit of morbid curiosity, I got on the scale this morning and was within a pound of my pre-pregnancy weight…)
The breast pump looks like a 1950’s SF movie-style ray gun. All it needs is a swirly light effect in the bottle to make it perfect. Ted cannot help darting through doors, ray gun at the ready, when he’s bringing it to me. This morning I staggered out of bed and said to him, “Can you get the ray gun ready?” My mom, who had arrived to rescue us already (I don’t know what we’d do without her), stared at me, and Ted went dashing off to the kitchen, and she said, “Did you say ray gun?” I explained, and as I went staggering toward the shower, I heard her say to Ted, “I _thought_ she’d said ray gun…” :)
Apparently I’ve missed my calling as a wet nurse. Who knew?
One of the quilts Tammy made for Henry. It choked me all up. :)
And one Mom made.
Pretty much going back to bed now.
(x-posted from the essential kit)