Well shut your mouth and call me Molly

I have no idea what that title means BUT I do know that today I am wearing my fat pants! Why am I so excited about wearing fat pants you might ask? Because I am only a week and a half post partum and I am wearing fat pants… which are decidedly NOT maternity pants. You see why this is a big day for me, Molly? Who the heck is Molly, anyway?

We had an appointment with the midwife yesterday and Anya is growing good. She was 8lbs, 2oz at birth; 7lbs, 10oz three days after and at 11-days-old (yesterday) she was 8lbs, 1 oz. So you see, breastmilk kicks serious ass. She’s still very red and has a little goopy eye stuff going on, but we can fix that right up with: YEP, you guessed it, breastmilk. I have a tee-shirt that says, “I make milk. What’s your super power?” and you know what I think? Breastmilk is better than Batman and Spiderman rolled into one. Better than the Green Flash, easy. Tons better than those silly Wonder Twins. I think Breastmilk is even better than Superman. SO SHUT YOUR MOUTH.

Did you know, in fact, that if Americans would just breastfeed their babies until they were six-months-old we’d save 3.6 BILLION dollars in health care annually? THREE POINT SIX BILLION. That’s a whole lot.

My goodness I’m yelling a lot in this post. Must be all the sugar.

Right now Anya is sleeping in the cradle next to me making all sorts of crazy noises and her eyes keep flickering open and lolling around. It’s kinda cute and creepy, all rolled into one. Thinking about standing back and squirting some breastmilk at her while whispering (‘cause I don’t want to wake her) “Get behind thee Satan!” But then she’d probably wake up covered in milk and want to nurse… which can get in the way of eating ice cream. Ah parenting, the sacrifices are always so hard.