Jack Kaden

I was going to name this post “pumping ain’t EZ,” but that was already taken.

I’ve been what they call exclusively pumping (EP) for the past 3 months. Everywhere I go, my trusty Pump N’Style goes with me. When Jack was still in the NICU I pumped every 2 hours, at work, at home, at parties, everywhere. It was not easy, and often reduced me to tears, but it was the one thing I could do for my little boy for 2 months.

When Jack came home, I had high hopes that Jack would have some interest in the boobs. High Hopes. But, alas, it was not to be. He has not taken to the breast… much to his father’s chagrin.

And so the logistical nightmare of pumping every 2 hours and feeding a voracious baby (via bottle) every 1 1/2 hours has taken its toll.

Tonight I am reclaiming my sanity, and my breasts. The pump n’ style has pumped it’s last…er. drop.

Rest in Peace Pump N’Style. Rest in Peace.

PS - Hel-Kat Our favorite little girl in the village loves the boobs AND the pump. Video proof below…

So. The reason we forgot to post yesterday is because we are t.i.r.e.d. over here. Jack’s reasonable-ness? A thing of the past. In fact, he’s been downright disorderly.

I think he’s going through his 2 week growth spurt (or is it his 3 months growth spurt? I just don’t know anymore). He’s is eating EVERY 1 1/2 hours. Which makes for crabby parents who forget to post about major milestones…

So I keep on starting a post about Jack’s birth story but never have time to finish.

It’ll be done by his 3rd birthday. Promise.

That Jack’s due date was yesterday.

It’s kinda crazy really, ’cause he also turned 3 months old yesterday. Wow.

I firmly believe in the healing power of the mustache, so when Sarah went into the hospital last August, I got to growing one.

Anyways, it took her about a week to figure out what was happening, and when she did she was not pleased. I suspect this was because she realized that she wouldn’t be able to handle all of the manlyness that was sprouting from my upper lip. I calmly explained that Jack needed all of the help that could get, and that the mustache would almost certainly help his chances. Secretly, I also wanted to take this picture for my dad.

Being that she was in the hospital and in a somewhat weakened state, she eventually agreed not to kill me, but only if I promised to shave it off the day Jack came home. Well, it’s taken me a couple of extra weeks to work up to it, but yesterday I re-joined the rest of you wimpy non-mustache having men.

It’s been a very rough 24 hours, but I think I may pull though.

PS- Jack has plumber butt.

I never really “got” the importance of family, until Jack arrived. I always just sort of assumed that my family would be around, and rarely thought to treasure my days with them.

Early this morning my Aunt Mary passed away. She’d been fighting a heroic battle against breast cancer for several years now.

My family would go to Ohio every Christmas to see Mary, Mike & Cousin Amy. We’d drive the 8 looong hours from Delaware to Columbus and would arrive on the 23rd. I would sleep in the trundle beside Amy’s bed and the next morning we’d all get dressed to go to Lazurus to buy a Holiday outfit and go to Santa-Land. The visits to Lazurus were the stuff of a David Sedaris short story. Amy and I always ended up with matching outfits, our all-time favorite being a lovely brown and peach number with fluttery sleeves.

Mary was one of my childhood idols. I looked forward to seeing her every year, She was graceful and elegant and so warm. Her home was like this wonderful cocoon of holiday goodness. She was a dancer when I was little, and the reason I took up ballet was because I wanted to be like her. As our families grew apart, my parents divorced, the christmas traditions fell by the wayside but still Mary stayed in touch.

As I sit here with Jack finally home. Finally in my arms, I am sad he didn’t get to meet his Great Aunt Mary. But I feel very, very lucky to have had her in my life.