Honeymoon?

I reckon I might be in the honeymoon phase but lord, I can't stand how much I love being mother to Calliope. (I still can't believe the word "mother" gets applied to me!)

She's just... fabulous in every way!

We had such an amazingly beautiful weekend together. She was easy going and fun and happy and willing to be passed around and god, I'm positively addicted to her silvery peals of laughter.

This is far, far better than I imagined. And my hopes were high.

My heart has never been so full. She's a miracle, and every day together is a blessing.

I know someday in the not so distant future, things may not be so easy. And I know I won't love her any less for it. In fact, I expect my love will only continue to grow as it has from the beginning.

So perhaps this is the honeymoon phase. But if this is what it takes to establish our relationship so that I stick around and don't divorce her when the going gets tough... so be it! I'm going to appreciate every moment of it.

Even if that means taking her sleeping self out of the crib, as I did last night, to bring her into bed with me.

I couldn't sleep last night and it was so nice to have her company. Later, she woke up and we both fell asleep while nursing. It was so nice to wake up and feel her little body still curled up against mine. Such a blessing, especially after a frustrating altercation with my sister (the reason for my insomnia).

Everything else falls away when I look at her.

Calliope's Very Big Day

What I did on my Very Big Day.

1. First off, as you can see, I mastered sitting.

Now to be fair, I can't do it that long.

But Mommy says that doesn't matter. If I can do it at all, without support, it counts.

I think she's kind of an idiot for posing me on an ottoman that moves and rocks so easily -- um, hello -- when I'm none too steady, but I give her props for her lightening fast reflexes that caught me when I tipped over and nearly fell.

2. I've mastered a wicked fast rolling technique (WFRT). It's awesome. Check me out on You. Tube because Mommy says that Blogger kind of sucks, especially with video.

Calliope's mad rolling skills

3. Because I keep waking myself up when I roll over in my sleep, Mommy and Nasstya successfully taught me how to sleep on my tummy! It turns out it's very convenient for keeping my thumb in my mouth.

4. As a special surprise for Mommy, I didn't let on until she got home and Nasstya had left... I cut my first tooth! Mommy was so surprised to feel that rough edge in my mouth. Now she knows why I was up four times two nights ago, and twice last night. Now if she was a really nice and kind Mommy, she would let me stay in her bed all night, understanding how hard I've been working lately to master all these new skills.

<sigh> unfortunately, she put me to bed in my own crib. Now that it's 9:40 pm, I think I'll wake up to show her the error of her ways. 

Five Months Photos

I love diaper changes because I get to do the Diaper Free
Dance, in which I swivel my naked hips rapidly from side to
side.  But here I'm distracted here by the camera.

I love being five months old!
And so does Soggy, my elephant, so named because I
like to suck on her trunk.

I can sit on the potty without help!
It's a nice place to sit and check things out.
Even if I don't use the potty in the more traditional sense.
And who doesn't like to hang out with her pants off???

Mommy, I told you that I don't need help! I got this
one! I'm all over sitting. And no, I do not need to

lean back against the cushions. I can balance just
fine like this. 

Don't worry Ma, it's cool. I'm just leaning back and taking
a breather. Not to worry.

No, this is not a face plant. I meant to do this. 

Raw Yogurt

Looking up recipes for making my own yogurt, I realized that they were, gasp, pasteurized.

Given that I want to make yogurt from raw milk, it seems crazy to pasteurize it in the making! (Pasteurizing destroys all sorts of good vitamins and things.)

And the idea of pasteurizing your own breast milk,when of course your baby drinks it raw -- what, you want to kill all those amazing antibodies in it??? -- seems crazy.

Therefore, here's the new yogurt recipe for raw milk, which can be used for any sort of milk -- breast, cow, soy. Not rice, though. Apparently it just doesn't work.

Amazingly easy.

Heat milk slowly to only 110 degrees (heat it to 180 and it's pasteurized), stir in a couple tablespoons of yogurt that you already have (must have live, active cultures), then put it in a warm place where it can stay close to that temperature for 8-12 hours (longer for thicker, more sour yogurt). I put it in a slow cooker filled with water heated to 120 degrees, and covered the slow cooker with the towel and left it overnight. In the morning, I heated the water up to 120 again before I left for work. The nanny put the newly made yogurt in the fridge a couple of hours later.

That's it!

If you have a pilot light in your oven, you can also put it in the oven overnight.

I tasted it tonight and it's much sweeter than regular yogurt, a natural dairy sweetness.

Cool!

Next up: learning how to make raw kefir. I don't know if I actually like kefir because I've never actually had it. But apparently it has amazing probiotic activity. So I'm going to order some grains... just as soon as I get around to it, whenever that is... and try my hand at it!

Gluten Free?

So I know I've "talked" to y'all about following the Weston Price diet. Using this book called "Eat F.at to Lose Fa.t."

Well.

It doesn't seem to be resulting in weight loss.

Wicked bummer.

Talking to the dairy guy at the farmer's market on Sunday, I mentioned that I was trying to eat this certain way, and he started going about, "I don't see why people need to do this! I mean, it's easy, just eat less and do more!"

And what I wanted to say was, "Listen, fucker, not for all of us! I do eat less, and I do do more. And the weight only adds up. So speak for yourself... but don't assume your truth holds for everyone!"

Instead, I said, "yeah, well, that didn't work for me."

However, I'm trying to focus on health, and hope that maybe the weight will take care of itself. And failing that, that I will lead and happy and healthy and loved life, anyway. Because weight doesn't say anything about a person's life.

Regardless, however, I'm trying to go gluten free, because I've noticed that when I eat processed carbs, I feel horrible. Drugged and headachy and sometimes I get reflux, which I've never had any other time, except pregnancy.

I did it for three days, then broke it for biscuits and my favorite brunch place, then did it for a week, and broke it for the amazing chocolate chip cookie pie thing at my cousin's bat mitzvah this past Saturday. But honestly, the main reason that I did was that I was just still hungry. Despite the big dinner of sushi appetizers, then fish and veggies for dinner.

Sunday I reached for a bagel at the cousins' brunch, giving myself permission to have it, then realized I really didn't want it. The dread of how it would make me feel has made me lose interest, I guess. I also think having more fat in my diet has made me much less interested in processed carbs.

So I have been in contact with a person who coaches this sort of eating. And this past week, I incorporated one of her suggestions -- I made organic chicken broth and ate it at (nearly) every meal. It grossed me out when I tried it during pregnancy but now I rather like it. It's nice because I get so tired of eating (I'm always hungry!), and it's easy and requires no forethought to warm a mug of broth. I even let Calliope taste it (in the tub, again... she made a horrified face at the first taste... but then looked up at me with an inquisitive face as if to ask for more). This week my goal is to make some fermented veggies. According to this woman, fermented foods really help to absorb more from food.

Fermented foods don't appeal to me in the slightest, however. I've never liked anything pickled.

But I am bound and determined to give it a try. I'm hoping that by getting more from my food, my prodigious appetite might decrease. Because I really am tired of eating all the time. It's just that I get so damn hungry.

I will say that even without weight loss, I think this way of eating may be the reason that my skin is clear. And I think maybe I have a little less hair-in-places-I-don't-want-it? I never had a ton, but it increased in recent years.

It's so hard not to be envious of others' easy weight loss. I eat so healthy, and I never eat to "full" -- I always stop at "no longer hungry" (there's a big difference)... in earlier days, this would've meant weight loss. And I exercise!

But I'm trying to make my peace with the fact that I just don't get to choose what body I get.

So I'm trying to focus on the things it can and does  do so beautifully.

Like that it carried a perfect baby to [well past] due. And that it still beautifully, perfectly exclusively nourishes her with breastmilk. Indeed, it nourishes other babies as well, since I've now donated to one baby and am in communication to nourish another. And that it's healthy and strong and vital and energized. These are all precious gifts.

I Am A Total Goat

There's an old timey expression from somewhere, I don't know, the Bible? Somewhere.

Anyway, it says, "that will separate the sheep from the goats."

I always loved this expression because I have no idea what it means. But my best friend and I decided that goat=awesome and sheep=totally uncool. Because I love goats -- so friendly and adventurous and fun and cute -- and sheep are, well, lame. They just stand there and baaaa.

Boring.

So today, I was a goat.

I ran home from work.

In the pouring rain.

It sucked in the first few moments but then it was mostly awesome. I was tired at the end, perhaps because I made the run 1-2 long blocks shorter than normal (baby steps!) but also, it seems like I am always tired at the end, no matter what.

Once I got home -- completely soaking wet -- I got an enthusiastic welcome from Calliope.

She was in the exe.rsaucer at the edge of the living room (where she could see the front door) with Nasstya sitting on the floor facing her, singing and holding Eleanor (Eleanor is definitely more needy than Calliope so I worry a little about my girl always being the one on the floor or in the "equipment" but I guess she's learning to be low maintenance? at least, I do know she gets tons of stories and singing and verbal attention).

Anyway, it took Calliope a minute to realize who I was, perhaps because I looked like a drowned rat? But then she clearly made the connection and started hooting and bouncing... and then uttering a few pathetic little cries because I didn't come right over and scoop her up (I was peeling off the wet shoes).

But it made me feel a little bit like a rock star, that she knew who I was and got excited. I guess this gets old, but I'm still sort of pleasantly surprised to realize that I'm her favorite person (me and my boobs). I get all modest and proverbially duck my head.

A Comedy of Errors

Tomorrow Calliope and I are going to a family bat mitzvah.

These particular cousins throw a kick ass party. Their first bar mitzvah was incredible. They had professional dancers on the dance floor to drag our sorry asses out and show us what to do. They had race car tracks, and that basketball video game thing, and a thing where kids could make their own bobble heads, and a thing where kids could make their own T-shirts, and the most incredible food (another cousin and I stole extra kiddie deserts -- giant chocolate chip cookies the size of a cake, all melty and warm in the  middle).

Anyway. Yes. These folks are totally posh.

Unlike my yoga-pant-dwelling self.

After a crisis of faith, I determined that I will be wearing a maternity dress to their shindig. The thing is, it's a really nice dress! And it's a wrap around! So you can't tell (I think) that it's maternity. And the V-neck wrap-around-ness of it means I can breastfeed in it.

I also found a fancy pair of heels in my closet that I don't actually remember purchasing. Luckily I can still squeeze them on my feet.

However, it's supposed to snow in NYC tomorrow so I'm wondering if I can come up with some logic that explains that it's therefore okay for me to wear to boots?

The creme de la resistance?

Well, like I said, they are posh and all.

So I decided to wax my eyebrows.

Yeah, I do them myself, because it's cheap and convenient, and honestly, I really don't care that much (for those of you who know me in person -- it's OKAY to let this one slide, you really don't have to say, "yeah, I noticed!") and especially now that I have a kid and, as you know, the lack of a partner and all. And actually, this is only the second time I've attempted it since I gave birth. So my half assed attempts must be better than total free-form, right?

Anyway, I decided to tackle them while Calliope was in the tub in her little bath seat (which she will soon outgrow -- then she'll be in a baby tub inside the big tub rather than the baby seat in the big tub, because the idea of her loose in the big tub gives me heart palpitations) so I dashed into the kitchen to melt the wax in the microwave.

I know it's extremely terrible to leave your baby unattended in the tub for even a moment. So I just threw the wax in and hit "three minutes" and didn't take the extra few seconds to program it to go at half power for five minutes.

So yeah, the wax was a little hotter than ideal. And it vaguely stung for a couple seconds during the application, but I just blew on it and it was fine.

Until I ripped it off.

And revealed the awesome salmon-pink patches on either side of my lips and between my eyebrows.

Who is cooler than me???