Hurricane Audrey goes to a classy baby shower

This past weekend, I attended a baby shower for a family friend. Audrey was invited as well, so she put on her finest pink dress and pink tights, put her hair in pigtails, and off we went.

Don't worry if you can't even handle this. I couldn't either.

Regular readers probably know Audrey well enough by now to guess at how this experience went. She's a monster on wheels. An animal. A tropical storm bent on destruction. Would she behave herself nicely at a classy event full of ladies drinking champagne? Doubtful. Let's just run through how the day played out:

On the way there, I had hoped that Audrey would take a nap, but she had other ideas. Instead, she spent the 40 minute drive removing one of her shoes and then sticking the Velcro of the shoe's strap to the crotch of her tights. This apparently amused her, so she pulled it off and stuck it on again. She did this several times until the crotch of her poor tights was pretty much just a big hole with runs going halfway down one leg. There was nothing I could do to stop her except watch in the rearview mirror and say "no!" in a very stern voice. She responded by repeating "no!" back to me in a tone that sounded a lot like mockery, stopping her behavior for 30 seconds, and then resuming it. The tights were trashed.

Once we arrived at the shower, Audrey and her cousin immediately launched into a fun game called "run and scream" in the hallway of the host's lovely home. They were enjoying every minute of "run and scream" until the shower host came up to them with a special treat: some pieces of gourmet waffle! One for each girl.

The host first offered a waffle to Audrey's cousin, but she was feeling shy so she shook her head "no." The party host then turned to Audrey and offered her a waffle ... and Audrey reached out both hands to grab both pieces of waffle. She then marched into the kitchen with her prizes clutched in her sticky little hands and sat down on the floor directly in the middle of where all the shower guests were socializing. Everyone had to make room for her and be careful not to step on her as she took bites from each piece of waffle, happy as a clam. 

Luckily, I didn't have to deal with trying to move her to a better spot, because she only ate about 1/8 of each waffle piece before shouting "ALL DONE" and throwing them both on the ground. She then stood up, headed over to a pile of dog toys, and started playing with those instead.

Just lying on the floor in a nice dress playing with some slobbery dog tennis balls. Typical Sunday.

A bit later, it was time for lunch, so I made Audrey a plate of what I thought would be foods she would enjoy. But she did not eat. She just sat in her high chair in her Sesame Street super-bib, waving around an adult-sized fork and spoon for a while before eventually deciding that she was willing to eat the fresh berries on her plate, but nothing else. And she wasn't going to use her fork to do it.

Once all the berries had been hand-eaten, she realized that she hadn't touched me in at least five minutes, and that was entirely too long. So I had to dodge her bright red syrupy-sweet hands reaching for my arm and scarf like I was Neo dodging bullets in the Matrix. 

DO NOT STAIN MY CLOTHING FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

Once I had her cleaned off, she ate a single bite of brussel sprout and then declared herself finished with lunch and tried to throw her heavy porcelain plate onto the floor. I decided that allowing her to continue sitting at the table was just a bad idea for everyone involved.

I wasn't finished with my meal, though, so I let her out of the high chair to run around for a bit. As all the shower guests were sitting at tables eating, I figured she couldn't get into too much trouble if she wanted to just wander around the house. There were no stairs, and all the doors were closed. She'd probably just go back to playing with dog toys or something.

It was then that she discovered the pile of shower gifts.

And they sang to her, and she could not resist them.

I knew that she had discovered it because she walked up to me holding a baby toy she had fished out of a gift bag. Horrified, I told her to put it back, so she did ... and picked out a different toy instead. The kid was shopping for toys among unopened gifts for a different baby. I need to get a cage to keep her in when we go out, I think.

One large enough for her to turn all the way around in, of course. I'm not cruel.

She then went shopping in the diaper bag of a 5-month-old baby, finding several items she liked and putting them with her stash of dog toys. If you gave her a rattle to shake at home, she'd look at you like you were crazy because duhhh, she doesn't want to play with stupid boring rattles anymore. But when she finds a rattle while digging through someone's bag at a party? Well then it's probably the greatest toy of all time!

My favorite thing about this is that it isn't mine and I'm not supposed to have it!

Once everyone was finished with lunch, it was time for dessert. I got a piece of chocolate mousse cake and sat on a low step so that Audrey could join me and share the cake. I gave her a bite, and she ate half and spread the other half across the entire left side of her face, creating another 'dear God we're all wearing nice clothes' emergency. I guess the part she actually did eat was delicious, though, because she became an absolute monster after that. She barely let me eat any of the cake myself, as she sat there barking at me to give her more and more and more. I'd say that all told, the cake division was 60/40 in Audrey's favor, even though I'm more than six times her size. She literally ate berries and chocolate cake for lunch and nothing else (okay, and one bite of brussel sprout). Sometimes, it's easier to just let it happen than to argue, though. She could have a spinach squeeze pouch later.

For those times when injecting nutrition directly into your child's veins seems impractical.

When the guest of honor sat down to open gifts, Audrey haunted the pile of opened gifts like a stray dog at a barbecue, looking to see if there were any toys she wanted for herself. She brought hairy dog toys up to people and placed them in the laps of their fancy clothing, saying "thank you!" She had a cup of milk and poured some on the floor, then tried to 'clean it up' by spreading it around with her hands. She came up to me and grabbed my hand as I held a mug of coffee, attempting to spill it all over me. It was like everywhere I looked, there she was, doing something naughty.

Eventually, I decided enough was enough and it was time to go. I took off her tights and shoes (WHY DID I NOT DO THIS ON THE RIDE TO THE PARTY) and strapped her into her car seat, collapsing into the drivers' seat in exhausted relief. It was over. We had survived. No permanent damage was done (except to the tights ... but those were cheap).

And of course, Audrey slept the whole way home. Done wore herself out.


Audrey dear, I love you, but MAN you can be a handful sometimes. Whew.

At least you looked really cute in your dress.

Sometimes, that's the best you can do.

The many faces of Elmo

I think we all know at this point that Elmo is Audrey's most favorite thing. If you don't believe me, here is a picture of her losing her mind when she saw her own Elmo shirt on my phone screen as we took a selfie together:

"ELMOOOOOOOOO"

She has several Elmo dolls that live in our house and travel with us ... and they all have this same big grin on their faces. A grin that, depending on the situation, can become quite ... uncomfortable.

Here is Elmo in his natural state, looking happy/creepy as can be.

Here are a few photos of Elmo looking kind of terrifying:


Elmo the Potty Pal

This photo first appeared in this post about how Audrey might be a psychopath. She was playing with her new potty, and she put Elmo into the waste compartment before sitting on him and going potty.

I don't think Elmo particularly liked being in that position.

"Elmo has said 'no' but Elmo's friend still did not stop."

Suddenly, his big grin doesn't seem so happy. It seems like the grin of someone whose eyes are screaming "help me."


Elmo and the Black Cloud of Depression

Kermit always says it ain't easy being green, but has anyone talked about whether or not it's easy being red? People assume Elmo is always smiling because he's always happy ... but has anyone stopped to consider the possibility that maybe he's just putting up a front to cover the turmoil he feels inside?

Here's a picture that Audrey took with my phone, which I think captures a rare glimpse into what it's really like to be Elmo. Perhaps it's not as great as we've all led ourselves to believe.

"Elmo wonders if anyone would miss him if he died tomorrow."

Or, maybe I just shouldn't let my toddler take pictures with my phone, because they are always crap and she always takes like 25 of them at a time and it's a pain in the ass to delete that many pictures of the wall and the TV screen. 

Nah, definitely the Elmo is depressed thing.


Elmo is Watching You

This situation arose naturally after I packed up all our crap to head home from a weekend at my parents' house. I had tossed Elmo into the bag and then put a bunch of stuff on top of him ... but apparently he decided that he wanted to be able to see what was going on around him, like some sort of Super Creep.

"Elmo can seeeeee you."

I can't see his mouth, so I can't tell if he's smiling as usual. Are his eyes smiling? ARE THEY??!

Here is an artist's rendering of what the rest of Elmo's face probably looks like, depending on what you were doing at the time (let's face it: you were probably doing something bad, though):

"Elmo is horrified and disappointed."

Elmo Has No Escape

The lady who cleans our house every month is totally awesome, and one of the things she always does is gather up any crap that's lying around and shove it into whatever bags are lying around, so our house doesn't look so cluttered.

This is great most of the time ... and other times, it's EVEN MORE THAN MERELY GREAT.

Such as when I came home to this in the front entryway:

"Elmo has resigned himself to his fate."

Ummm ... I'm sure he can breathe just fine in there. 

... right?

Patent's Patented Guide to the weeks immediately before, during, and after having a baby

There's nothing on this earth that I like better than to give advice. Had you noticed?

And so, here comes another post where I tell you things that I've learned, and maybe it's new to you and you're thankful, or maybe you roll your eyes and feel superior; either way, you're better off than you were before!

Patent's Patented Guide to the weeks immediately before, during, and after having a baby

BEFORE:

Adult Diapers -- buy them

I wrote a whole post about my adult diapers, but let me give you the short version:
I was really paranoid about my water breaking somewhere other than in the shower or on the toilet, so I bought a package of adult diapers and started wearing them over my underwear every night starting at around 36 weeks pregnant. They were hideous and ridiculous and I was an embarrassment to everyone in my life.

Fun fact: the adult diapers post is my most-viewed post out of everything I've ever written. Because apparently pregnant-women-wearing-diapers fetishes are a real thing, and people click over to that post hoping desperately for pictures. They won't find any. Sorry fellas.

But then, at week 39+1d, I started having contractions so mild I didn't even realize they were contractions. They just felt like period cramps, but period cramps that were becoming increasingly more rhythmic. And at around 9PM, as I lay in bed pretending to play Candy Crush but actually just timing these rhythmic cramps, I felt the trickle of my water breaking.

I was wearing a diaper. Because of this,
   -- The bed/sheets were unharmed.
   -- I walked to the bathroom without soaking the carpet. I did not feel the need to run there with my hands clasped between my legs.
   -- As we spent the next half hour running around the house like crazy people loading everything into the car and making 50 phone calls, I was not in any way concerned about soaking through my pants and making a giant mess in the house.
   -- By the time we were actually getting in the car to leave, I had leaked enough to require a new diaper, so I put on a fresh one and we headed to the hospital. My contractions intensified in the car, but I was able to focus on them and not on worrying that I might leak through the towel I was sitting on.

Those diapers were a f***ing godsend, is what I'm trying to say. Once your water breaks, it doesn't really stop leaking ever. It is too much liquid for just a pad to handle, and I can't imagine that leaking through my pants would have been very comfortable. Being in labor is uncomfortable enough without also having to deal with that. 

Just buy the diapers, and if you never need them, you never need them. And if you DO need them, you will be so, so happy you have them.

Extra bonus: One very smart lady told me that she also wore diapers for the couple of days after giving birth, when the crotchal region is like Niagara Falls during a hurricane sent by God as a precursor to the apocalypse. You can bet your ass I will be following her lead this time around.


Gatorade -- buy as much of it as you can store

I did not buy enough Gatorade for after Audrey was born. Not even close. I should have bought cases of it, so that I could drink it constantly and not feel guilty about it.

Why? Because those first few postpartum weeks are PUNISHING on your body's water management system. On the one hand, your body is trying to get rid of all the extra blood and fluid it's been carrying around for the past 9 months, so you're going to sweat and pee like you've never sweated and peed before. But at the same time, your body is also trying to establish a supply of breast milk, which requires extra water. So your body is battling itself, totally unsure of what to do with fluid and where to send it. 

And I ended up feeling about as dehydrated as I've ever been in my life.

The dehydration took a terrible toll. My hands were dry and cracked, as were my lips. My appetite completely tanked, as no food sounded appealing at all. There was literally nothing that I wanted to eat. The only thing I could make exceptions for? Fruit and soup. And guess what fruit and soup have in common? THEY ARE FULL OF WATER.

Now, it's easy to sit here and say "well then why the hell didn't you just drink more water?", but it isn't always that simple. When you're that far gone with dehydration and no appetite and total exhaustion from not sleeping, the thought of chugging down yet another liter of tap water is so, so unappealing. I drank all the water I could, but it didn't seem to do me any good. I just peed it out and my lips stayed cracked and I couldn't eat and my breastmilk supply never really happened and I cried dusty tears into my peeling hands while lamenting every decision I'd ever made in my life.

I really feel like this could all have been solved by gallons upon gallons of Gatorade. Delicious, cold, refreshing, hydrating, easy to drink, and full of whatever your body needs while it goes through all these insane changes. At least for a week or two, if I'd drank four liters of Gatorade a day, things would have been better for me. I know this because one day I drank four liters of Gatorade and I felt absolutely incredible.

This time around, I'm actually learning this lesson. Gallons of Gatorade. Gallons.

It's cool to just keep one of these in the living room, right?

(Note: don't go making Gatorade your only fluid intake, and definitely don't keep up the Gatorade diet for longer than absolutely necessary. Let your body get its shit together, and then drink water like a normal person. Gatorade is full of sugar, yo. Don't give yourself a kidney stone or diabetes or anything and then blame me for it)


Your favorite protein bar -- buy a few boxes of them

It's pretty well established that eating properly in the first weeks after giving birth is a challenge. This is why women commonly fill their freezers with casseroles while pregnant, or have family members drop off lasagnas, or get "meal train" deliveries from friends and neighbors after baby is born. When cooking is at priority zero and eating isn't far behind it, it takes some pretty consistent reminding to get new moms to take proper care of themselves as their poor bodies try to heal and also try to get breast milk production going.

Protein bars are the easiest thing in the entire world to eat. You can eat them with one hand while you drive. You can eat them with one hand while your baby naps in the other. You can eat them with your non-dominant hand without spilling or putting an eye out. You can eat them on a boat, or with a goat.

OR BOTH!

Before baby comes, buy lots and lots and lots of protein bars -- enough that you won't feel like you need to ration them or find time to go shopping for more. I mean hell, it's not like they go bad in a week. If it takes you a year to get through them all, so what. Buy them.

(Also, my favorite protein bar is the Luna bar in either S'mores or Nutz over Chocolate flavor. They're pretty nutritionally balanced, with lots of vitamins along with the protein and carbs and fat your body needs, and more importantly, they taste good as f***. I will be buying at least 50 of them before new baby comes)

... 50 BOXES of them, ha ha am I right ladies?

... ladies?

80's-style sweat band -- buy one and put it in your hospital bag

They're great for gettin' physical.

I'll explain the full "why" on this one below, but just trust me when I say that if your hair is any longer than a buzz cut, you should buy one of these and take it to the hospital with you. You might not use it ... or it might be the thing that turns your entire birthing experience around. Worth the $8 they cost, I think.



DURING:

If you start to lose your motivation, change something

This one seems so obvious when you think about it rationally ... but when you're 8 hours into labor, nothing is rational anymore and it can be very easy to forget. 

So let's just all drill this into our heads: If what you're doing isn't working anymore, DO SOMETHING ELSE.

There will probably be many points in the labor process (especially if you've not had any pain medication) where you think "I cannot do this anymore." And every time you hit one of these walls, you need to change something about what you're doing. Are the lights dimmed? Maybe try turning them back on. Are you listening to Nine Inch Nails? Maybe change over to Disney's The Little Mermaid soundtrack and try to sing along to "Kiss The Girl." Are you sitting on a birth ball? Try squatting. Try walking around. 

Try out the shower. Move to a different part of the room. Look out the window. Look at a picture. Turn on the TV. Change the channel.

Watch some Caillou. We all know how much I love that show.

Finding the next "right thing" to keep your labor progressing properly is like trying to find the right prescription at the eye doctor. There might be a lot of "worse! worse! WORSE!!" before you find your "better", but when you find it (and you will find it), you'll suddenly find yourself energized, motivated, and ready to keep plugging away at it. A few miles here, a few miles there, and eventually you'll get to the finish line.


Take care of EVERY minor comfort issue

Before a man runs a marathon, he must first put tape over his nipples. He must do this because if he doesn't, his shirt will rub just ever so slightly over his nipples with each stride ... and as he sweats, his shirt will become heavier, and it will rub a bit more ... and the salt in the sweat will turn his shirt into soggy sandpaper ... and by the time he finishes his 26.2 miles, his nipples will be raw to the point of bleeding through his shirt. The same man in the same shirt in the same weather running 5 miles may have no issues whatsoever.

It is amazing how even the most minor irritation can, over a long time, become absolutely unbearable. And this completely applies to being in labor.

I remember keenly the moment when everything turned around for me. I was sitting up on the bed and it must have been 3 o'clock in the morning, six hours after my water had broken. I was dilated to maybe 6 cm or so, so I still had a ways to go. And I just didn't think I could do it anymore. I told everyone that it was too much for me, that I would probably need the epidural after all, that I wasn't as strong as I thought.

And do you know what gave me the boost I needed to keep going? It wasn't the support and positive reinforcement I got from my mom and husband and doula (though that was nice too). It was that f***ing 80's-era sweatband.

YES.

I hadn't realized it, but my hair, which had started out tied back in a tight ponytail and held in place with multiple bobby pins, was falling down and strands of it were consistently in my face and eyes. And that minor irritation had, over the course of hours, dragged me down to the point where I thought I couldn't go on anymore. My nipples had bled through my proverbial shirt.

But I put on that sweatband, and my hair wasn't in my face anymore. And that was it. I continued my labor for many more hours, without pain medication, until Audrey was finally born at 7:27AM. That f***ing sweatband was the turning point in my entire night.

Another minor discomfort to be on the lookout for is leaky bottom. As I mentioned above, once your water breaks, it will continue to leak throughout the rest of your labor. Do you want to constantly feel that wetness pouring out between your legs? If not, get the hospital to give you some of those fabulous mesh panties with a big pad in them (or, bust out those diapers again!). Keep your legs dry. 

(Note: this was also a godsend later in labor, when I could NOT stop peeing myself with every contraction. Seriously, it was like a dog that pees on every single tree and you're like "how do you even have any more pee left?!" but then you get to another tree and sure enough, he's got a few drops for that one too. If I had been peeing down my legs or into my bed, I would have been even more miserable than I already was).

Are you cold? Say something to someone. They will find you a robe, or another gown, or a blanket, or some big fuzzy slippers, or whatever it is that's going to make you comfortable again.

Do not let even the most MINOR of discomforts go unaddressed. Giving birth is f***ing uncomfortable enough on its own without your right arm also being a bit itchy.


Ask the hospital to give you a sitz bath to take home

Make your insurance buy that bitch for you.

DOOOOO EEEEEET.

AFTER:

Drink the f*** out of the Gatorade

Like seriously. Drink the f*** out of it. Are you thirsty? Does water not sound like something you want? Drink a Gatorade. Drink all of the Gatorade.


Eat 10 protein bars a day if the alternative is you don't eat properly at all

There were a lot of things that went wrong with my attempts to establish good breastfeeding, but I'm willing to bet that part of the problem was my absolute inability to eat and drink properly in the first week or so after Audrey was born.

Making breast milk is a lot of work for your body. Give that poor bastard the raw materials it needs to do its job.

If you're not in a situation where you can sit down and eat a slab of that lasagna that your Aunt Betsy brought over, eat a protein bar. If you need to leave for the doctors' office right f***ing now and there's just no time for any of that tater tot casserole you thawed out yesterday, eat a protein bar. Wake up, eat a protein bar. Middle of the night feeding, eat a protein bar.

When in doubt, eat a protein bar.

And wash it down with an unholy f***-ton of Gatorade.



Epsom salt butt baths motherf***er

Due to the severity of the, umm, injury I suffered when birthing Audrey, Epsom salt sitz baths were a required part of my postpartum recovery process.

And I genuinely believe that they should be a part of EVERYONE'S postpartum recovery process (unless you had a C-section, I guess, but even then, why not?? Does your bottom not deserve the royal treatment??). If your bottom has just passed a human through it, you deserve daily sitz baths. You should be pampered by more than just your adult diapers.

You set your sitz bath on the rim of your toilet and fill it with warm water and Epsom salt. Swish it around until the salt dissolves. Sit your little bare, swollen, maybe torn and stitched up tushy in there. Read. Eat. Drink. Update Facebook. Sit until the water is no longer warm enough for it to be comfortable, and then reluctantly get up and go on about your day.

Through the magic of science, the Epsom salts will help reduce any swelling in the area. The warm water plus salt together will really help keep everything clean down there, which is great when you're not allowed to wipe your arse yet. Plus, the mandatory 10 minutes or so spent alone in the bathroom playing Candy Crush (or eating a protein bar and drinking a Gatorade) a few times a day will be absolutely lovely.

I loved soaking my undercarriage in saltwater, and my undercarriage loved being soaked in saltwater. It was glorious and I highly, highly, highly recommend it to anyone and everyone who pushes a baby out of that body part. The saltwater will actually help keep you from rusting.

____________________________________

Everyone's got tips on surviving labor and delivery. These are mine. TAKE THEM OR LEAVE THEM YOU BASTARD; I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU DO!

And a happy childbearing to all :-)

And here are some linkies to other pregnancy-related, childbirth-related, and new baby-related posts I've written that you might also enjoy:
Guide to buying maternity clothes
How to craft the perfect pregnancy announcement
Why did I choose natural birth?
How to write a birth plan that won't make the nurses hate you
My birth story for Audrey
Advice to a first-time mom
Hippie parenting decisions I made for non-hippie reasons
Reviews of the cloth diapers I use