30 day MILF challenge

I don't want to post this because then I will be held accountable and who likes that.

I know that I carried another human inside me for almost a year and blah blah blah but I don't need to look like I'm living my life in the bloated first trimester again, but I be shallow like that. 

Today marks the start of my get-my-shit-together-earn-that-MILF card- 30 day challenge. 

here we go...

I will eat as clean as possible, limit myself to one dessert or less per week (my weakness) and work out every day for 30 days. Work outs will be at least 30 minutes in length and at least 3-4 days a week will include intense cardio/strength training.

ugh.

the human that made my body her first home

not impressed, also feel free to ignore the absurd hugeness of my boobs

Hold me accountable so you don't have to hold my pannus. 

Pan-nus: noun.

Example: A large roll of abdominal fat which can extend anywhere from the genitals to, in some cases, all the way past the knees. Thank you Urban Dictionary!

Motivating comments, fun exercises or healthy recipes always welcome!

Have you seen my marbles? Or maybe my baseball?

I wonder if I can get and manicure and pedicure when I get home from work tonight. My moms staying over so maybe she can watch Avi while I get pampered a little. My toes are queen of busted-ville right now.

I get home from work and Avi has just finished a bottle but my mom brain still worries she had missed my boobies and will starve to death while I'm selfishly getting a mani/pedi, so I force my boob at her anyways. 

I walk swiftly to the closest nail salon. The place is empty. Score. I don't have to wait. I've never been to this place before, it seems nice. I can't wait to plant my mom-shaped ass in one of those large squishy massage chairs. Yes, I said mom-shape, because even if you loose the baby weight, your body shape changes so that you can more appropriately fit into mom jeans. Totes mcgotes.

A white man sits me down to pick out my color. I ask if they're doing a manicure first because that would be crazy, and I didn't understand why I was sitting at the manicure station instead of soaking my dragon toes. The white man (I emphasize white man because in nail salons it's strange and unnatural...) tells me the girls are going to work on me at the same time. WHAT? What am I a supermodel? I mean obvi, but I was still surprised. And yes, he did refer to them as girls.

So I'm sitting in the massage chair with two women working on my hands and feet. Shit I forgot to wax. I want to explain I'm a new mom and I'm sorry for my leg bush. Wait, is that hair on my big toe? Holy hell. Who would put hair there?! I really need to pull it together. I wonder what Avi is doing. I hope she's not hungry. I'm obsessed with her hunger needs.

Then a woman asks if I would like my diamond ring cleaned. No thank you. I'm pretty sure that's a ploy to swap my diamond for some CZ garbage. God I'm an asshole, I should be less paranoid.

Wait so is this white man married to one of the Asian women working here? I creepily stare at them to piece together this puzzle. Maybe he's a polygamist married to all the girls? Or it was an arranged marriage. Shit that's racist.

The white man offers me a cup of water, which I accept and think, yes let's hydrate my boobie milk supply so I can flood Avi with my goods when I get home. I notice the girls politely smiling at me as I sip at my water. What are they smiling at? They poisoned my water so they could rob me, didn't they?

Have I lost it completely? Yeah done with the water, too risky. If they did that, would someone find my body, or would they stash it in the back of the salon? Was I always this crazy? No, this is what being an adult is like. I must look out for myself because I'm someone's mom now. Obviously. 

It's so quiet in here. Why isn't anyone else getting pampered after work? Is Avi hungry yet? I wonder what she's doing.

Is this foot massage going to trigger a let down of my milk? That would be such a waste. I also don't feel like walking home with wet bulls eyes over my hazardously large milk sacks. In all seriousness though, I hope they take credit cards here or I'll have to make a mad dash and we all know I should not run with large marge and big carol. Yes, those are the names of my new friends that take up space somewhere under my neck and above my bellybutton.

During the sleeper grip neck massage I thought again about having let down. Damn boobies. As I was leaving, white man talked to me about his loyal customers and how long they've been in business. Maybe he's not so bad after all. He does seem quite nice. I'll give a larger tip for my secret judge fest the past hour.

What day is it? Oh yeah, Tuesday. I should blog when I get home. Unless Avi is hungry, then I can feed her and then blog? 

I have lost my marbles. I'm pretty sure only crazy people have this many thoughts at once. When did I get this crazy and frazzled? Hmmm. I wonder if Avi is hungry yet. I should speed walk home.

How to job interview when you're constantly pumping those boobies.

Since I've become a new mama, I have started looking into a job change. One thing I realized is that when you're a pumping mama, you're constantly thinking about the next time to pump, where you're going to pump, where you're going to store the milk and if you're going to pump enough for the next feeding. This is why I can't function in life. This must be what it's like to be a man, constantly thinking about breasts (sorry, I couldn't resist)

shocked. or thinking about breasts.

I've had a few interviews where I have had to pump. The biggest interview was in Denver, CO. I was told the interview was going to be a full 8 hour day. Holy crap, my boobies, was all I could think. I had no idea the age of the woman that was coordinating my interview day, but I had to open the lines of communication right away and explain that I was a pumping mama and would need some breaks built into the interview schedule, and also a place to pump and store the milk. I was pretty nervous thinking that they would roll their eyes and immediately cancel my interview since I was too much of a burden. To my surprise, they were more than accommodating. They sent me the schedule to approve my pump breaks and said there would be an office to pump in, store my pump parts and a refrigerator to store the milk, they even said my husband could bring the baby to me during the breaks if that was easier. During the interview, the admin was adamant about bringing me back to the office on time so I could pump. The breaks were 30-60 minutes in length, which was adequate time to pump. The office was spacious with views of the mountains. They surpassed my expectations on accommodating my pumping needs during a full day of interviewing.

Another big interview was at a hospital in Chicago. The hospital is only a few miles from my house, and the interview was only scheduled to last 2 hours, but I don't like going more than 2 hours between pump sessions, so I knew I would need to pump shortly before the interview and after, but where? I could've pumped in my car, except the garage nearest the hospital was valet only, so I couldn't sit in the car and pump and didn't feel like pumping and driving for fear of being anxious in morning traffic and having zero let down. I posted the question of how/where to pump in this situation on a Facebook breast feeding group (they're amazing, join your local group), and they told me the hospital I was interviewing at had a few pumping rooms. BOOM. Problem solved. I packed my smaller pump and cooler bag and got to the interview about 40 minutes early so I could pump and relax. The room was large with a comfy chair and sink. It was perfect. I also packed a few extra cooler packs to ensure that my milk would stay relatively cold during the interview and my shopping spree after... (husband, this is simply untrue. I went to the library to do research).

pumping away in the hospital pump room

The last interview I had was less time and more relaxed for me, but also in a non-hospital facility, so I pumped before and after in my car and again had a few extra cooler packs to keep my milk cold. Lots of people talk about the struggle with pumping in the car, mostly due to the type of pump. I have a Medela Freestyle breast pump. It runs on batteries, so if it's charged you don't have to worry about outlets or getting a car adapter outlet. It's also very small, slightly bigger than a soda can I'd say. So throwing that into a bag is not a huge deal. Because of my insurance, I was able to get the Medela freestyle covered and then ended up switching insurances once baby was born so I decided to get a Medela pump in style advanced to keep in my office and not lug back and forth. The freestyle isn't as efficient for me, however it's fantastic for traveling or using in the car.

PUMP ON WORKING MAMAS. PUMP ON.

I'm a petri dish filled with flu.

So in November when I was 8 months preggo, I was super lucky and won the flu lottery. I was so sick it took me out of work for a week, which is neat because I could've used those PTO days for maternity leave, but nah, I wanted to use them to stay at home and feel like death. That's the magic maternity leave system we have here, you get to use up all your PTO and then short term disability pays you about $1.25 a day, but only for 6 weeks, so if you take 12 weeks off, well then you get to volunteer your 6 weeks of time, yup unpaid leave! Anyways, I digress...

I was so huge from pregnancy, that my baseline body temp was somewhere between burning and extra burning. Add a fever to the mix and it was pure fiery hell. The coughing was the worst. Your belly is stretched to the max so using your abs to cough uncontrollably makes me wonder how I didn't just split myself open like a c-section. I thought having the flu while pregnant was the worst thing, but then my midwife told me she had shingles during her pregnancy. Alright, you win that one shingle queen.

So now I won the flu lottery again, a mere 7 months later, it's pretty excellent, but now I have a 5 month old to add to my snotty tissue mix. Being sick while you have a baby to tend to is actually worse than flu-ing while pregnant. I still think shingles wins them both however. So the fun fact of a breastfeeding mama with the flu is that I can't really take anything, not because it's bad for baby but because everything has a risk of drying up my damn milk. Yup, those glorious medicines that dry up your snot machine also dry up the milk barn. I can take Tylenol, that's it. It's a party up in here, be jelly. Thus, I will be a coughing, snot-nosed mess for who knows how long. Also, the other part that makes this worse is that I have a tiny human to care for and hopefully not get her sick. The good thing is that breast milk has good tasty antibodies, hopefully protecting her from this flu garbage.

That's all for today. My brain is mush, or similar to those fried eggs on the commercial about your brain being on drugs. That's my brain, except I only wish for drugs.

Wash your hands you dirty people and quit spreading your flu to me.

she's too gangsta to get sick