Razor mistake #87

Disclaimer: This blog entry contains a narrative about boobs. If reading about boobs in general or my boobs in particular is offensive to you, do not read further. Consider yourself forewarned.

I'm taking a bath after just having replaced the old blade on my razor with a new blade. And I'm raising the razor to shave my underarm area when I somehow lose my grip on said razor. There is a frantic reaction to try and stop the drop of the razor into the water. Why? I'm not sure, these things are designed to be used when wet. Anyway, in my attempt at recovery I somehow manage to swipe the blade against the underside of my boob (otherwise known as the nipple) and my immediate thought is ah crap, I hope that didn't-- and I look down to see blood running down into the water. In case you weren't certain of this already, I can now testify to the pain that comes from nicking your nipple with a new razor blade.

It Sucked and then I Cried

I took a night off from mommying and went to Powell's to see Heather Armstrong, world-renowned blogger extraordinaire of Dooce.com, who has just published It Sucked and then I Cried, a book in which she explains her first pregnancy and the subsequent breakdown she experienced. And, yes, that is one helluva run-on sentence. 

In a word, Mrs. Armstrong is awesome. She came in wearing a tight red shirt and black slacks that accentuated her seven-month pregnant frame, and with ultra curly hair she apologized for - apparently she went a little curling iron happy as she was prepping for the night. Her Tennessean drawl is up front and personal and, in case you're wondering, her arms are quite long and gangly - she mentions this whenever she blogs about dancing.

She read two passages out of the book - one on boobs, the other on sex. She was witty and delightful and open and honest, which is probably why she is so frickin' popular. 

Meat on the pole, not on the plate

Leave it to Portland to start the world's first vegan strip club.

Oregon, a breast-feeding friendly state

In 2007, Oregon became the first state to pass a law requiring companies with more than twenty-five employees to provide “non-bathroom” lactation rooms. (A national media campaign asks, reasonably enough, if you wouldn’t make your kid a sandwich in a public rest room, why would you expect a woman to bottle her baby’s milk in one?)

This article is hella long but immensely interesting (I think) and very informational. 

Doctor's orders

My doc is advising me to DRINK BEER. This afternoon I received a call from my doc's office and the nurse I spoke with advised me that my doc wants me to try drinking beer with a high quantity of brewer's yeast to help increase the milk supply. I guess if you were wondering why I like my current doctor that mystery is pretty much solved now, eh? So, does anyone know of a specific beer that has a lot of brewer's yeast I should be consuming?

On a side note, I'm also taking Fenugreek tablets three times a day and am going to try consuming oatmeal for breakfast to see if that helps.

I'll be happy if I can continue for Henry's first year but my goal is to hit the two year mark. I remember a time, pre-baby, when the thought of a kid who was walking on his own who was breastfeeding sort of freaked me out. I used to think that was weird. I don't anymore. There's some agency in the U.S. that recommends one year - which agency escapes me right now...CDC? AAP? But the World Health Organization recommends continuing to breastfeed your child beyond two years, if possible.

Pump, pump, pump all day long

Disclaimer: This post discusses boobs. If you are offended by boobs or do not wish to know about my boobs in particular cease reading now.

So, I was pumping the old boobs this morning to get some milks for the kid. Normally I don't take too many precautions. I don't lock the front door - it's a secure building - I don't draw the drapes - neighbors who can see in are never home and even if they were what they could glimpse through the trees between their homes and mine would hardly be entertaining. But sometimes the unexpected happens and you realize that, as you sit on the couch attached to the breast pump which sort of makes you look like one of those dairy cows, there are two men on a type of construction crane slowly passing by the patio outside on their way up to another floor. (Note: Our patio is directly above the opening to the underground parking so we don't normally see too many people in front of our patio. They'd have to be able to walk on air to get there.) Thankfully I was able to move the shirt down a bit to cover what was worth covering. Lesson learned. In the future, I shall check for cranes before settling down on the couch to pump.