The Poopsie Collective

So Many Phases So Little Time

Written by GWEN

When I look back on the last 14 months, it’s a bit of a blur. On the one hand I can’t believe how fast it’s gone. But on the other hand, it seems like we’ve already packed a lifetime into just over a year. There have been so many phases, trials, tears and moments of joy packed into such a short time. I’m feeling reflective this week (can you tell), so here’s a short list of phases and triumphs over the very special life thus far of Mr. Izzy Mylo.

I remember….

1.) When the mister and I used to lie awake at night in wonder at the ridiculous noises coming from the Moses basket next to our bed.  Mainly the amazingly loud farts.

2.) How Izzy’s tongue used to ALWAYS be out. I think it’s kinda unusually long and when he was really little, it just didn’t fit.

There’s that tongue!

3.) At around 7 months, Izzy finally learned to sit up on his own. So every night he would wake up every few hours crying because he had sat up in his sleep, but  didn’t yet know how to get back to lying down. It was so sad and so cute. And so tiring.

4.) Around that same time, Izzy also decided to wake up at 5:30 every morning. This was ridiculously discouraging, but now he sleeps until 7:30 most mornings. The other day he made it until 8:15. I had NO idea what to do with myself.

5.) At three or four months, we really had a great boob feeding routine down. I would take Izzy up to my bedroom, latch him on and I could actually read a book for half an hour. It was so quiet and peaceful and special.

6.) Then at the very end of the year, as I was winding down his feeds, Izzy bit my nipple to the point of bleeding every time. That was not so peaceful or special. 

7.) At the moment Izzy is in what the Mister calls a Schadenfreude phase.  Basically he thinks it’s HYSTERICAL when anybody falls, hurts them-self, trips, drops something. He may have gotten this from me. Apparently I’ve been in a Schadenfreude phase for the better part of the last two decades. I try to discourage it with Izzy, but it’s SOO sweet when he giggles. 

8.) During the tricky period where Izzy was waking up super early, I admit to putting on Baby TV from time to time. He was OBSESSED with a show called Egg Bird, which consists of decorated eggs with legs, who every episode meet a new egg bird and find him a costume. It’s really very cute. And I SWEAR Izzy shouts, EGGBIR, EGGBIR, every time it comes on.

9.) The drum phase! On Friday mornings, we go to a sing along where at the end every baby gets to bang on a lollipop shaped drum while we sing goodbye to them. Izzy became SO obsessed with this drum, that the teacher had to save him for last every week, so he could play with the drum once the session was over. Then when I finally dragged him away, he burst into tears. We finally got him his own, which he still plays with, but isn’t quite as attached to anymore.

10.) The Leroy phase. Seems to be a lifer. He just LOVES that lion.

Another phase… Izzy used to fall asleep on our bed or on the floor all the time!

I could go on and on, but you get the point! Here’s to another year of god knows WHAT!

Tit for Tat

Written by ERICA

What my boobs looked like immediately post-baby. And what I wish I looked like all the time. She’s hot.

*** Disclaimer: if you are my dad, father-in-law, ex-boss, or anyone uncomfortable with talk of boobs, stop reading now. Because the time has come to talk about some tits, specifically mine. ***

So a little background info on me: I have (or should I say had? But we’ll get to that) great boobs. I just do. I’m not embarrassed to say it, in fact, I’m proud of them. I’m not sure where they came from. Sorry mom, but there is no way these perky C-cups were inherited from you. Or at least that’s what I thought. My mom always told me she used to have more of a chest before her kids (you are welcome) sucked them dry. And we weren’t even breastfed. Anyway, my entire life, if you asked anyone (me, my husband, my friends) what my best qualities were, I’m pretty sure my boobs would make the list. And according to my husband, so would my humility. (Smart a$$.) 

So when I got pregnant I was curious to see what would happen to my chesticles. Would they get massive? Would they disappear? Would they loose all sexiness and start to resemble cow utters?

The short answer? Yes. To everything.

During my pregnancy they basically didn’t change. They sure looked smaller, but I’m fairly certain that’s just ‘cause my burgeoning belly bump stole the show and for the first time in a very long time my tits weren’t the biggest thing on my body. 

Then I had Owen and some weird things happened. In the hospital I had zero milk and, wait for it, non-existent nipples. Yup, my nips are tiny, always have been, apparently always will be. Which is fine with me. But it wasn’t fine with Owen. He wanted NOTHING to do with them. Which shocked me. No one has EVER rejected my boobs. Ever. I would have been insulted but he was just so teeny and innocent, it was hard to stay mad. I even had a lactation expert come check out my lady lumps. In walked a she-male that looked (and sounded) like Arnold Schwarzenegger in a white lab coat and after being legit manhandled I was told, and I quote, “These just won’t do. These boobs are no good to me.” I’m pretty sure I cried. 

Next, we (me, my family, and my sad, good-for-nothing boobs) left the hospital, and on the ride home (seriously) they blew up like porn star tits. That lasted for about 2 days, just long enough for me to run into the nearest lingerie store in tears because none of my bras would fit. I soon found out they didn’t fit because I was a size 32-E. AN E! What the crap is an E cup?  I’ll tell you. It’s bigger than a double D. It’s a post-pregnancy, my milk-just-came-in, I look like I might topple over, cup size, is what it is.

So weeks go by, the breast-feeding is a no-go, the pumping is making me feel like a miserable, cranky cow, and slowly but surely, my boobs are disappearing on me. In the end, I lasted only 2 months pumping. I stopped after I had a breakdown at 3am while I was being moo-ed at by my breast pump (I swear to god it makes a moo sound) and in a half-asleep, too-tired-to-sit-up, stupor I spilled 3 ounces of breast milk all over my nice clean sheets. (And yes, I proceeded to sleep in those sheets because I was too tired to even survey the damage.)

The next day my doctor told me it’s more important to have a happy, sane mom, than a miserable mom who pumps at the crack of dawn. So I quit. I’m a titter quitter and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I was able to salvage what little boobs I had left, and walk away from the experience fairly unscathed.

One day I’m sure Owen will read this and be mortified. No kid wants to hear his mom talk about her boobs. But listen up cutie pants: it’s your fault they’re not as big and perky as they used to be. It’s because of you that I have lost all confidence in their powers. It was on your 1-day birthday that I got physically assaulted by an aggressive lactation expert with man-hands. So tit for tat Owen. Tit for tat.

Confessions of a Super Boob

written by GWEN

I have a super boob. As in, a couple months ago Izzy decided he didn’t like my left boob anymore, so the poor thing shriveled up to a barely B cup (smaller than pre-preggo) and the right one grew even bigger… into a Super Boob.

She kinda runs the show, this Super Boob of mine. I can only wear certain things that mask the fact that one boob is two sizes bigger than the other. Bras are interesting and bathing suits are, well, laughable. I purchased a one piece today for the Super Soob. It actually isn’t too bad. I took the padding out of the right and added it to the left.  As I paid, the sales girls urged me to go stick my baby on the left until I evened out. Nah. We’ve made it this far and it’s kinda cool having a super power.

Sometimes the nails on Izzy’s left hand get a little too long. See I cut them when he falls asleep while feeding, but I can really only access the right hand easily now. So when he wakes up with a scratch on his face, we all know who is to blame. Super Boob of course!

In the mornings I express from sad lefty to mix with Izzy’s rice cereal, just to keep the dream alive. It’s nice for her to feel like she’s contributing, but to be honest, sometimes I have to take a bit from Super Boob to have enough these days.

It really is amazing what we put our bodies through for our babies. The stretch marks, the sagginess, the little bit of pee that seeps out every so often (or is that just me?), the inexplicable bruises because I seem to just walk into things all the time now. Before I had Izzy I dreaded sacrificing my body for a baby. If someone had told me a year ago, I would have ridiculously uneven boobs, I would have been disgusted. But now that it’s happened, none of it seems so bad when you look at what you get. (I’m talking about the baby now. Not the severely disfigured body.) I’ll finish breast feeding in a few months, and hopefully my boobs will join forces once again. At least now I know what I would look like with a boob job. Think I’ll pass. Unless, of course, they come with super powers, but pretty sure she’s just a one off!