I've been having a pretty good time since my last posting. It has snowed and that always makes me feel better, even though snow has been mysteriously tracked all over the apartment.
Oliver likes the snow because it makes it insanely bright outside. He likes looking out the windows. I sit on the sofa with him over my shoulder, looking out the window while I watch TV. BUT! Even the brightest window doesn't compare to sitting up ALL BY YOURSELF.
I don't know if he lives to fall over or if he just likes that I have to be paying superbly close attention to him, but sitting up alone is in this season. Now when he is lying down he tries to sit up by himself, but he just isn't quite strong or coordinated enough to so he grabs your hands and helps you pull him into sitting. And then he will want to stay there. Forever. (Or at least until he poops or wants to eat. Whichever comes first. Its always a close race.)
We've had a busy weekend. We went to the mall and were nearly trampled. We had to return a few things and also pick up a couple of items. We were trying to make it a quick stop but between parking and dodging crowds, it took a while. After we made our escape we realized that Doobie was probably starving so we stopped at a restaurant on the way home so I could feed him.
It was a learning experience. I wasn't wearing a nursing bra. Jared had scooped up all the laundry and with it all of my nursing bras, so I said... well. I'll just wear a regular bra. Let me just say that there is a reason I haven't worn a regular bra since I was pregnant. It just doesn't work on so many levels.
1. It is poor fitting.
2. It is uncomfortable.
3. Reaching up and trying to manipulate your boob our of your bra in a restaurant really makes you look like some sort of pervert.
4. Once you finally do get your boob out, don't even try to get it back in. It just won't work. You will have to leave the restaurant with cockeyed boobs.
It was an interesting experience, but I made it work. I was the perfect image of motherhood: eating onion strings in a BBQ joint, dropping crumbs onto my nursing baby, all the while ignoring the hicks behind me laughing about the 2 inches of boob they can see.
Couldn't I have gone to the bathroom and nursed in there? Yes, but that is gross and I wouldn't have wanted to eat in the bathroom so I wasn't going to make Oliver do it either. Public nursing doesn't bother me in a self-conscious sort of way. Inconvenient, yes, but do I have personal hang ups about it? No. The people who sneak a peek at my stomach flab are probably more uncomfortable than I am. :)
But now I must go work on more Christmas cards. The first wave has gone out so a lucky percentage of you already have wonderful homemade Christmas cheer in your sweaty little hands. Those of you that don't? Cross your fingers that Oliver is feeling like arts and crafts today.