A Mid Week Picture Update

Whee hee apparently we have internet! It makes me feel a wee bit better about being in Hawaii and not being able to do much of anything due to Squidge-alea! (That's her Hawaiian name. I am Crystalani! And then of course, there's Maui Mario.)

I can't wait to write more about my cousin's beautiful wedding--think Hawaiian dancers, a fire dancer, leis all around, fantastic food and cocktails, and a great party!--I thought I'd post a couple of pictures. They are from the surprise shower I threw for my cousin, the sunset cruise the night before the wedding, the wedding ceremony itself at the beautiful Maui Prince Hotel (the ceremony was in the morning, the party at night), and other general pictures of Scarlett being adorable.

Vignettes of Peevery and Joy

I miss my blog. I don't know why I just can't find time to get to it. Okay, well maybe I do know why. Last week, I was frantically finishing up summer school, then frantically writing a conference paper, then frantically heading to Denver to attend the conference, then heading home, and now frantic again--we are leaving tomorrow for Hawaii, and NOTHING is done! No packing, none of the other tasks I need to accomplish. Should i be blogging? No. But, I've been away a long time, and will likely be away a while longer after this.

I have so much I could write about. So this will be a series of mini-moments:

* I survived my first (36-hour) absence from the bug! I admit to sniveling my pathetic way through the airport after saying goodbye, but once on my way I managed to enjoy my inordinate freedom quite extensively despite only having to pump like EVERY TWO HOURS, because for some unexplainable reason being away made my production factory kick into overdrive.

* Or perhaps it was the alcohol? I may have committed a petite conference no-no by getting quite buzzed (off of two glasses of wine!) after a very, very impolite and unprofessional person was rude after my presentation. Very occasionally people can be snide and nasty at conferences, but I was not expecting it at this time. People reassured me that my presentation was fine (retrospectively, it could have been better I know) and that she was in the wrong, but it still cast a pall on my experience, compelling me to drown my sorrows in house red, seek reassurance from everyone in our crew that I had done okay, and then proceed to babble shamelessly at strangers in the buffet line. It probably would have been in my best interests to be a tad more disciplined, yes. At least, when we continued to imbibe well into the night, we did it down on 16th street rather than at the conference hotel where the staid, responsible compositionists would not be mentally filing my name and face in the "Do Not Hire" file.

* At least the eatin' was good. I am telling you: Grand Hyatt, downtown Denver. Best conference food I have EVER had, hands down.

* And I got some really great ideas from some of the presentations I observed. Yippee! It's good to get pumped up with motivation and ideas for new projects!

* Speaking of pumping--That airline security guards should be total wankers and fixate on the most inappropriate and non-terrorist objects must be written in the job application. When I went to Seattle in May, I got crap for having a spoon in my purse (maybe I could cut out someone's heart with it?) and this time, I got it for...wait for it...you guessed it...MY BREAST PUMP. A snippet of the exchange:

Him (stopping the conveyor belt to peer at his little x-rays): You have a bottle in your bag.
Me: An EMPTY bottle.
Him: You have a small, plastic, bottle in your bag.
Me: Yes. There is nothing in it. There isn't even a lid on it.
Him: It's an empty plastic bottle? (in a tone implying suspicion of WMD)
Me: It's. My. PUMP. Because I'm. BREASTFEEDING.
Him: I'm going to need to take a look.
Me: Go ahead. Take it out. Fondle it. Embarrass yourself. Let me know when you're done.

Granted, breast pumping isn't exactly a thrill. But I am pretty sure that it would not be an effective terrorist threat. ("Everyone stay in your seats why we fly this plane into the National Bowling Stadium! Fuck with us and you WILL get pumped!")

* And while I'm talking about terror, I'm a little concerned Mario and I might be in for it with a little bully. Yesterday some good friends were in town when I got home last night, including a couple who had a baby about 12 weeks after we did, cute little Landyn with the most kissable, pinchable cheeks. And what did Scarlett do when we plopped them down together? Immediately, and multiple times, grab Landyn's plug out of her mouth and stick it in her own, leaving her to cry sadly. Sigh...we are really in for it!

Wish us luck in Hawaii. After twelve hundred tasks and errands today, we have to drive to the Bay Area tomorrow to catch our flight. Um, yeah...wish us LOTS of luck!

Trouble at the Pump

Whew, sorry for the long hiatus from the Bloggosphere! Our internet router has been broken and then we were out of town. We could get little snippets of my sister's connection next door, but it was tenuous at best and not conducive to good quality internet time. Finally Mario went and bought another router today at Best Buy and we are back in the game!

It's probably good that I've taken a break, because I think maybe Scarlett has been reading my blog, and has seen some of the negative comments I've posted about breastfeeding. No wait...that would imply that she actually CARED what I think! Either way, she's up to something, and that something is rejecting the breast. Since last Thursday, she's been a total turd when I've tried to feed her. She'll eat for a minute or so and then start arching and whining and trying to look in the other direction. Feedings that used to be 15 to 20 minutes are now no more than four if I'm lucky. At first, I thought it might just be gas, or some other kind of pain, or a brief phase. But it's getting close to a week now and things don't seem to be improving. I can only guess that this is because a) now that she's having formula and baby food she's decided these new tastes are superior to mom's milk, b) she's such a busybody she hates been made to lie down facing me, away from the action, or c) she's just plain contentious and she's sensed that even though I only originally committed to six months of this, I had recently decided it was too soon to stop.

I have heard of babies doing this...just up and deciding they are done with breastfeeding. Apparently my sister did it when she was eight months (my mom was pissed at her because it was right before summer and she was hoping to have big boobies for bikini season!) and one of Mario's cousin's babies that we saw this weekend was over it at six months. I called the doctor yesterday and they said there is really nothing I can do except start offering her a bottle when she won't eat. I knew that would be the end of it, so I was reluctant to accept that suggestion, but I finally did it tonight, because of course keeping her healthy and happy is the most important thing. The little twit arched and whined on the boob but then sucked two ounces of formula down, sweet as pie, and afterwards scarfed half a jar of butternut squash.

Granted, this is probably the control freak in me being bummed because I'm not the one making the choice here. But I have to admit, I'm a little sad. Unless something changes pretty quick here, this is going to be the end of the road for the Milk Cow. For all my talk about looking forward to weaning her, I had finally come around in the last couple of months to understanding what some women rave about when they talk about breastfeeding. It was sweet to feel that bond with her, to have her want me and only me when she's hungry or needs comfort. Even though it's a huge tie-down, it's also been time when I have been forced to take breaks from my hectic life and just sit down to enjoy her, to soak myself in her infanthood, to marvel at the baby-soft feeling of her scalp and wiggle her little toes and stroke the soft skin of her arms and legs and rub her little back while she looked up at me, sucking away so earnestly.

Sigh.