Change of heart

Had I blogged earlier today, it would have focused on how cranky I was. Miss M has had a cold, which I am pretty sure she will pass to me because a) I followed her around mopping up her snot for two days and b) she has spent a lot of time coughing in my face, literally. My sleeping has been worse (if possible) because of her illness; she has these coughing fits while she is horizontal. She doesn't necessarily wake up, and Taxman doesn't wake up either, but I lie there, listening to her hack away for a couple of minutes, followed by a couple of minutes of soft snoring, and then it happens over and over again. For about an hour. At which point I have to get up and pee again.

Then this morning Miss M was driving me crazy. We try to leave for at least an hour when our cleaning lady visits, to give her a chance to clean at least part of the house, then we come home and mess up that part while she cleans the rest. (Oh, and we have a mother-daughter nap, too.) Anyway, trying to get her dressed and me dressed in our wintry clothes and both of us out the door without her untying and unlacing her DOUBLE KNOTTED shoes or playing with the cleaning supplies was a challenge for One Tired (and super Cranky) Ema.

But then she took a super long nap, which gave me a chance to rest and then actually sit down and eat lunch like a mentch. So this afternoon she was good company, and we thoroughly enjoyed the Banana-oatmeal Hot Cakes I made for dinner. (We like it with vanilla soy milk and vanilla soy yogurt, which is how we made this for the first time--it was before we put Miss M back on dairy.)

The true turnaround, though, was that tonight was my book club meeting. Two whole hours to be among adults (well, and a newborn, but all she did was nurse) and talk about books and dogs--relevant to the book!--and muse on marriage and relationships and grief. It's a heck of a lot cheaper than therapy. Or a spa day; I could probably buy a year's worth of book club picks (they must be available in paperback) for the cost of a massage! Not that I'd object to a massage, though.

Why Gaining 30 Pounds is a Hysterical Fantasy

When I was pregnant with Miss M, I gained 30 pounds. Actually I was up 32 by 40 weeks, but by the time I delivered I had lost two. I was paying a lot of attention to what I ate, made elaborate fruit and cottage cheese plates to eat at work, and loved my prenatal yoga class.

This time, although I don't think I am eating much more and I am hauling around or pushing the stroller of an almost-27 pound person a lot, somehow every calorie is sticking. Admittedly, the concept of regular meals is a bit beyond me. Sometimes breakfast is a yogurt and a cup of tea, during which I constantly repeat (to the whine of "gogurt!" and the exclamation/sign "hot! teeee!") "No, Miss M, this is Ema's yogurt. You already ate yours," or "Yes, Ema is drinking hot tea." Then at around 11 I realize that 90 calories isn't really a good start to the day for a pregnant woman and I put peanut butter on whatever happens to be handiest and eat that. The grazing kind of happens for the rest of the day, and usually ends with some kind of healthy-ish dinner.

The downfall seems to be my awful sweet tooth this time. I have been drinking juice (a big no-no according to my doula and my doctor). If I open any type of candy I have to finish it. Taxman, just trying to be sweet, has brought home booty from the office vending machines, but I will absolutely swallow an entire Snickers in about 20 seconds. That can't be good.

Oh, and also not helping is that we recently discovered this: In a Crunch, which I think is even beating Oatmeal Cookie Chunk and Mint Chocolate Cookie. This is serious. As is the rumor that a kosher Dunkin' Donuts is coming to the neighborhood. Just a rumor, but talk about good news/bad, bad, bad news for a pregnant Ema with an extreme sweet tooth.