Lofthouse is the Devil! Originally Sent FEB 7, 2006

I am in the wrong racket. Apparently, certain companies, knowing that the newly parent-ed persuasions are running on little sleep and are at less than optimum on the common sense scale at this stage, have pulled some Barnums on us. I confess to falling for this myself, but I have learned the error of my ways. My latest folly involved a gimmick device called "Lilypads". Imagine a WACKY WALL WALKER -- a little, sticky octoped that you threw at a wall, and they rappelled down the wall, rolling over themselves. Now imagine that some brilliant weasel has come up with the idea of flattening those wallwalkers into a pretty pink pancake with the idea that it will attach to one's bazoom and keep the milk from flowing, thereby saving on the cost of nursing pads. Ha! Like the Wall Walkers of old, a little soap and water and it's sticky again. Of course, also like those little squids, a little liquid on the adhesive area, and it "ain't" so gooey. Supposedly, you can sleep in them, but I'm pretty sure you know where this is going...and going...and going. Yee-ick!

Why didn't anyone tell me that if I missed two feedings or pumpings (when we were out for a few hours in the evening) that the moment I got near my child, one cry would have me gushing like Old Faithful. It went through my nursing pads, and inside my jeans. Gross!
Totally, drippy and gross. Also, why didn't anyone tell me cravings would play such a huge part when you're breastfeeding? I don't recall having cravings during the actual pregnant-process, but I have been eating so much yogurt on a daily basis that Josh's first word will be "Yoplait. On a related note, Josh's breath has a distinctly yougurt-y smell, and Dannon left a message on our answering machine, asking for a blood sample from him -- something about trade secrets, I think.

Also, Pastor Bob, I have discovered that Satan is actually a Lofthouse cookie. I scarfed a whole package of the darn things the other day, and I want them more than air. I will gladly continue to throw myself on that grenade for the benefit of humanity, as I am determined to get him sooner or later. Jon's still being a good sport, and will snag what I ask for, but it's all I can do to convince myself not to keep asking for those stupid cookies...(actual email: Hi,
Honey, how's work? I love you. Need milk and yogurt. -- repeat this conversation every other day, and you get the picture.) I would like to keep some of this off, but gosh darnit, I want those cookies! Carrie said her addiction was McDonalds...just this side of a "Will Work for Fries" thing. And there are no support groups for Lofthouse cookie addicts. None...I checked.


Also, how many irrational worries is a (new) mother supposed to have regarding a Roo? Do they ever stop? Does it get any less annoying to have them when you know darn well they are irrational? I mean, I have no trouble functioning...it's just these stupid random weird
thoughts...every once in a while, the world just seems awfully big and scary. It's not helping that I watched SYBIL (I've never seen it before, and my copy of the book fell apart before I could read through it.) Before the Roo, I could watch a movie like this, and find it a
fascinating psych study...and muse about how exhausted Sally Fields must have been after a day of shooting this...now, I'm wondering how many freaks really are in Z- and how many of them would be in contact with him ... Jon always spoke as though it wasn't the quantity per capita in this area, but the consistancy of the ones you saw. I'm
not certain if this is a comfort or not.



Oh, and after I went to visit that "looney woman" in W-L- (I'm not mentioning any names, but it starts with an "M" -- I'm not saying she's totally and ridiculously gone for this boy, but, well, yes, yes, I am), I came home to find a gloriously clean house. My dark haired genie had worked his magic again. My home is clean...which means I can invite people from outside the house INSIDE the house!!! Actual guest-y types. I can't attest to being a social butterfly at any point in my life... but I kinda' miss conversation...Josh is a great listener, but he can't really expound just yet. I know we are way beyond the boonies, but if any of youhappen to be in the neighborhood, you'd be more than welcome...this clean house thing may not last forever, you know.

Josh is sound asleep, snuggled in his boppy pillow (again!!! Den!!This is the coolest thing ever!!!), making little grunt and coosounds, and blowing bubbles on his lips...I'm cheating...he thinks I'm holding him...but it's hard to hold and type. Four days ago, he began
to smile for real...no, not just gas, nonbelievers, full-out actual
smiles in actual response. The word he responds to so far?
"Wonderful". He smiles at me, and I just feel all bewildered and
glow-y...like when Jon tells me he loves me...Really? Are you sure? Me? COOL!!!!

Yep, I know. For those of you who know me well and my thirty-odd (and ODD!) years of blowing off the kid thing , stop smirking. I'm still not certain about this motherhood gig...but...well, if he's silly enough to be impressed with me, I can be silly enough to run with it. Flattery will, after all, get you anywhere. Flattery and drool.

and yet...and yet...he does seem to fall into that awfully darn cute
category...Nope...I shall remain firm in my convictions...he is
minion, I will not be swayed!!! But he's sooo cute...but --- ack!!!
minion...cute...minion...child too cute...no, no, he's a minion....but
he's so cute....am overwhelmed by cuteness of the child...Mayday!
Mayday!!!

*Deep breath...Pulling self together...* Excuse me please...I'm going
to throw some Lilypads at the wall now.




--