I think it’s been 4 days since Charlotte last nursed.  She has rocked it teatless!  I think the day she turned 13 months was the first day of no boob.  She hasn’t had a bottle in a month.  Boo yah!  That’s my girl!  I’m so proud of her.  I feel like we timed it pretty good so she breastfed the full first year, but then didn’t go too long past that so that she would be able to “ask” for it.  She hasn’t missed a bottle except at school when all the other babies are drinking theirs.  Sorry kiddo, you turned 1 so Mama stopped washing bottles.  Charlotte’s slowly warming up to whole milk in a sippy cup.  Again, she’s been a rock star with all this.

Mama on the other hand is struggling a tad.

I’ve been consulting my home doctor and master diagnostician, the Internet.  I was quite sure for a few days that I had either Appendicitis, Diverticulitis, Pelvic Inflammatory Disease, or some other abdominal affliction.  I don’t.  No one told me about the cramping when you’re weaning.  Thank you Twitter friends for giving me the heads up as I had flashbacks to labor pains.

The best thing about breastfeeding was the bonding with my baby and knowing she was getting the “good stuff.”

That’s what I’m supposed to say, right?  Yes, that was wonderful.  But if I’m being really honest, I loved breastfeeding because I could eat anything I wanted and not work out that much.  I mean, slipping into my jeans 1 week postpartum and eating pizza and cookies was amazing!  That alone made the entire year of pumping 3 times a day and nursing totally worth it.

Yeah, well.  That (literal) gravy train is over.  When I stopped pumping last month, naturally I got busty quickly.  Then I noticed my pants were a tad tighter.  This week, after the nursing stopped, I couldn’t button my jeans.  I can’t take my rings off.

I’m so puffy and bloaty and my baby is all grown up!  Waaahhhhh!

Alright, my weaning whining is done.  I’m off to the gym.

Take a look at this tushy….

Adorable right?  I mean, it even has a baby Cookie Monster on it.  That bum has ruled our lives this weekend.

Poor kid.  She’s had some diaper rash all week long.  But, it got bad fast.  When we changed her Saturday morning her skin was raw, almost bleeding in some areas.  I called the Pediatrician’s office and the nurse gave us some rules to live by this weekend.  We cancelled our plans and declared full-tilt war on skin irritation.  This is what we did…

1. Bought Lamasil for the rash– Yep, the Athletes Foot cream.  Makes sense.  The nurse said most diaper rashes are fungal.  To treat this fungus among us we put on the Lamasil and then put on a good coat of diaper cream to create a thicker barrier between waste and skin.   
2. Baking soda bath–  We soaked her little bare booty in the tub a couple times.  The baking soda wouldn’t burn.  The nurse said it would be soothing.  
3. No wipes–  The nurse said they just leave a film that bacteria get trapped in.  She said to forget them until it clears up.  So we stayed at home and washed that little bottom all weekend.  

I freakin’ love Christmas cards.  I mean, I get more excited than one should going out to the mailbox in December.  I fiddled with fonts and photos on a Saturday night because I’m a rock star like that.  I hope ya’ll like it.  Merry (early) Christmas blog readers!

I truly feel very blessed to be a 30 year-old woman who still has all four biological grandparents living.  I love them so much and value my relationship with them.  I love that my daughter has met her great-grandparents.  They are kind and generous people who would do anything for you.  Like most grandparents they think their grandchildren are the greatest.  I can always count on them for a good ego boost and a belly full of home cooking. I guess the best way to describe them is warmhearted.

So, you would think with those warm hearts they wouldn’t be so freezing cold all the time.

I swear they could be dancing a jig with Lucifer in Phoenix in July and catch a chill.  They keep their houses so dang hot!  I’m not sure if it’s a health thing or what.  I mean, they are from the generation that believes cold weather causes a cold.

We, however, are from a generation more familiar with the ins and outs of infectious disease and keep our house cooler.  The the warmth of my Dad’s parent’s home was never more apparent than this past weekend when we spent one of the longest nights of my life there.

I put Charlotte down in the Pack N’ Play in the guest room Friday night where Greyson and I would be sleeping too. She went down pretty quick.  Her pajamas weren’t really “thermal”, but more of a textured cotton so I wasn’t worried about her overheating. 
I giggled as my Grandma marveled at the video baby monitor as we showed her how it works.  A short while later I was tired and didn’t even care about the ancient mattress that awaited my ragged body.  I laid down as quiet as one can on bed that old.  Charlotte’s head popped up at the squeaks and groans of my weight on the springs.  She let out a cry and I picked her up.  I put her in bed with me and we snuggled down under the covers and she fell back asleep.  Greyson was watching some basketball before he joined the family snooze.

It couldn’t have been that much later that Charlotte woke up wailing.

I offered milk.  She was having none of it.

We tried a snack.  She was having none of it.

20 minutes went by.  She bawled.  She flailed around.  We gave her the My Pal Violet stuffed dog she loves and she settled down to Violet’s computerized child voice saying, “10 minutes of bedtime music.  Good night, Charlotte!”

I closed my eyes for what felt like 2 seconds before the crying started again. We cranked up Violet and she tossed and turned before closing her eyes. 

Then I couldn’t sleep. 

Roll over. 

Flip pillow. 

Bathroom. 

Fold back quilt. 

“Why is it so hot!?”

In the dim light and stifling air, my beautiful sleeping babe suddenly seemed annoyingly sweaty.  My handsome hubby grew hairer and his breathing got louder by the minute. 

Roll over.

“Why is it so hot!?” 

Charlotte started back up again.  We realized her teeth were hurting her and we had no Orajel.  Finally I said, “Maybe she’s hot.”  Um…duh! I unbuttoned her sweaty pajamas.  Greyson tiptoed in the hall to bump down the thermostat without my grandparents knowing.

Sleep. At last. 

This was the scene in the morning when Charlotte woke up and watched a video on the iPad.  Lucky kid….



Sorry for the grainy cell phone pic.  There’s Violet!



We got up a short while later.  Our sweat had mostly dried up.  Sure enough, I saw my grandma in her curlers and slippers in the hall.  She shivered and tied her robe tighter.  She looked puzzled as she fiddled with the thermostat. 

Hey there.  Yeah, I’m talking to you, the mothers of other one-year-olds, mothers who’ve also been through the ups and downs of past year as a newbie parent.  I thought we had an understanding and a circle of support going on.