Look ma! One hand!

Warning to male relatives and squeamish types in general: This post dives into full-on mommyblogger territory. I use the word “breasts”, referring to my breasts in particular,… specifically their capacity to feed/nourish tiny human beings.

Proceed accordingly. 

Another list! The realm of the lazy blogger!

Things I Have Done Today With an 8lb Infant Attached To My Breast

(Why you may well be asking, as a pre-baby me might have asked, Why don’t you just put the baby down so that you can be productive and stop whining on the internets?

Well, pre-baby FOOL, because apparently infants do this thing called cluster feeding -the similarity to another more innapropriate word has not escaped me I assure you- where they are hungry every hour and a half.

Given that it takes around 20-25 minutes to feed and burp them, another 5-10 minutes for the odd diaper change, and lets not forget 5-10 minutes for you to change your various items of clothing soiled from milk/spit-up/other bodily fluids and you begin to realize that if you don’t wander around your house half-topless, multitasking while nursing, you will get absolutely nothing done at all. Ever. 

SO. As I was saying.

Things I Have Done Today With an 8lb Infant Attached To My Breast

  • Washed and hung to dry 2 loads of laundry
  • Scarfed two bowls of apple cinnamon cheerios (only dropping three on the furry head of aforementioned infant – pretty good if I do say so myself!)
  • Brushed my teeth
  • Applied makeup
  • Fed and watered Gus (oh Gus. Poor, poor neglected, lonely Gus. You deserve every doggie treat in the world for being such a gentleman to our little interloper)
  • Written a blog post (YES! This one! Right here! Now!)

And let me tell you, all of this nursing isn’t for nothing – today Olive and I ventured out *alone* to our midwife’s appointment where we discovered that over the past week she has gained thirteen ounces. Thirteen ounces!

To illustrate how ridiculous this is, here is a picture of a thirteen ounce steak.


Now imagine that inside of a baby! But made of milk!

Forgive me if I seem a little proud of myself, but it’s kind of cool thinking that I am physically packing on milk-versions of 13 oz steaks onto this little girl every week.

Also: I’m preeetty sure that 98% of it is going to those cheeks.

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