Memoir of a Moocow

Everyone in the house is sick. All five of us. Since Saturday.

The good part is that I can take a kid to the pediatrician and be able to describe exactly what's wrong, since I have the same problems! Yesterday I did just that; after the twins went down for a nap, I grabbed DD#1 and made the rounds. First we went to the pediatrician and got prescriptions for the three kids. Then we went to my family doctor and got scripts for DH and myself. Then I went to our pharmacy and waited a long time for a huge sack of all the meds.

I can finally swallow a little better, and the cough is coming less. DD#1 looks better today, too, and the babies seem to have more energy.

Posted by Mommy Moocow at 9:43 AM | Permalink | Comments

I'm sitting here cleaning up files on my computer and I just realized I'm watching Sesame Street, even though my daughter has long since left the room to do something else.

I've really got to be better at keeping up this blog, as I'll appreciate looking back on these posts later on.

So let's see, what have you missed? DD#1 just turned three, and after some major drama, got accepted into one of the three preschools in town. She's close to being potty trained, but still has to be told when to go, and she doing particularly want to poop in the potty.

DD#2 and DS will turn ONE!! on Friday. Part of me feels as if they've been here forever, and part of me still vividly remembers when they were brand new. DD#2 started walking a week ago. Very cool!

We are all of us quite sick right now. I'm starving, too, but I really don't feel like cooking. I just want to be put in cryostasis until I can be cured.

Posted by Mommy Moocow at 10:02 AM | Permalink | Comments

I'm just rotten at procrastination. Or, I should say, I'm actually great at procrastinating, but bad at doing what I should be doing. I made this blog so I would have a digital record of what I was thinking while my kids were growing up, but at this rate, they'll all be married and moved out by the time I catch up.

In any case, I can't write much now, as DD#1 tore off most of the keys on my keyboard. Typing is rather more of a chore than usual.

Posted by Mommy Moocow at 6:07 PM | Permalink | Comments

I woke up Saturday to a tearing right eye, which DH thought might be allergies. By the evening, I realized the entire right side of my face was partially paralyzed. On Sunday morning I went to the E.R. and was diagnosed with Bell's Palsy. F*ck. So for at least the next couple of weeks, I can only halfway see, eat, drink, smile, talk, and taste. It's really annoying.

To cap it off, today I came down with a cold. That's EXACTLY what I needed!

Krispy came back from across the big puddle and, contrary to what I thought she'd do, tried to talk me out of weaning. That is so NOT what I wanted or expected. I just need support. So I called Mega Mama up the street. She has five kids (including a set of twins), and works full-time as a professor. She's still nursing her latest (who's four months older than my twins), and I expected her to try to talk me out of quitting as well, just like everyone else. Surprise! She congratulated me for making it to 4.5 months with nursing and pumping, despite my own health problems. Her words: "Just look at your kids to know you've done a great job!"

So I've been pumping and freezing, then using the milk in rice cereal for the twins, which they started eating three days ago (woohoo!). DS eats it with gusto, DD#2 needs time. She's trying.

DD1 doesn't want me to type just now, so more later.

Posted by Mommy Moocow at 3:50 PM | Permalink | Comments

Nursing, that is. It seems everyone else I know can pump for 20 minutes and have enough milk to feed their babies. Me, I pump for an hour and have enough to feed one baby for a single bottle. And then there's the PCOS factor. I weigh four pounds more now than I did before I started exercising with the personal trainer, and NINE pounds more than when I started exercising five days a week. That ain't muscle gain, folks.

My DH and my mom say I look more toned. But my pants are tight at the waist. So I guess I'm toned with a layer of insulation.... You know, for the winter. Too bad I live in the South, and not Alaska.

DH says I should pump a few more days to store up milk, just in case. I think I'll also ask my friend up the street if she has any to spare (she gave me some frozen milk when I had to be on antibiotics briefly).

I feel so intensely guilty, and it seems as if everyone I talk to tries to talk me out of quitting, which makes the guilt worse.

Dammit.

Posted by Mommy Moocow at 2:13 PM | Permalink | Comments

It feels as if time just swishes by without my noticing or having even done much of what I needed to do. Lately, my life involves exercising and keeping kids happy--or at least not crying.

At other times, I'm doing dishes, laundry, general cleaning, or playing computer games. And watching kids.

What is really starting to piss me off is my weight. Now, generally I am not one of these "oh! I'm so fat" types who complain but do nothing to fix the problem. I pretty much sat at about 155 lbs. and lived with it. But for the past 7+ weeks, I've been exercising 5 days a week, with a personal trainer, no less. And the weight keeps going up. Now, I know you'll say muscle weighs more than fat. But we're talking about eighteen pounds. I weighed 136 when I gave birth to the twins in April. When I started my training, I was 149. Now I'm 154.

Here the issue: I have PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome), and weight gain is one of the symptoms (along with infertility and other nasties). My hormones seem to be battling me for control of my body, and I'm getting pretty pissed about it. I just called the reproductive endocrinologist's nurse, and she suggested birth control pills (I have clinical depression and BCP makes me suicidal in the middle of my cycle) or Metformin (which I tried for two months but didn't do much. I'm waiting to hear back from the doctor.

I'm frustrated.

But I did add another 36 personal training sessions.

Posted by Mommy Moocow at 11:58 AM | Permalink | Comments

So as I'm typing this, I'm hooked up to a "Pump In Style" breastpump. I hate pumping; life just seems to stand still. Toddler wants food, twins start crying, dogs want the gate to the backyard opened...but I'm attached by plastic tubes to my udder. The worst part is that even though I do this every day, I only make about half as much milk as I need to feed two infants, so I have to supplement with formula, which makes them gassy. But if I stopped, full formula would make them constipated. Also, the real stuff is just too good for them to stop for selfish reasons.

I lasted nine months with DD#1; by the end, I was cracked and bleeding all the time, and had suffered mastitis twice. I let myself dry up when I nursed my DD and saw her face was covered in blood when she was done. I used every kind of cream and ointment to keep going as long as I could. I tried gel packs, nipple shields, and air drying. Not a damn thing helped.

So this time, I'm not in such bad shape, but I'm certainly annoyed and frustrated. And sore, at the very least.

Posted by Mommy Moocow at 1:07 PM | Permalink | Comments