Monday, December 3, 2012


Ryan is now 6 months.  He had a check up a couple of weeks ago, where it was discovered that in the last two months, he hasn't gained any weight.  He grew in height and head measurements, but not it in weight.  12lbs and 15oz. 

I have had some concerns with my milk this time, it just didn't seem like he was getting satisfied, no matter how much I drank or ate.  I had started to supplement with some occasional formula, but now it is a regular addition.  He has started baby foods and hates rice cereal. Ryan has eaten everything I let him get his hands on baby food-wise, including regular mash potatoes and rice krispies. But, the biggest reason he hasn't gained any weight would be...

Crawling.  He has been crawling for a month.  The boy doesn't hold still. He burns all of his calories. Try holding him and it is a like holding a cat that knows you want to give him a bath.  But he loves to be held and gets mad at you when you won't.  Ryan spends a lot of time on the floor.  The result?  He is now pulling himself up on anything and everything he can.  Yesterday, we watched him furniture walking. That is right. Climbed the side of couch and moved from one end to the other. 

I am a little disturbed by this.  Don't get me wrong, I actually love when the babies start to crawl.  LOVE IT.  It means I don't have to carry them everywhere so they can be with me.  They can now come to me. However, the pulling himself up and furniture walking already... he is so little. Not to mention the extra baby-proofing needed.  He was only in the 10th percentile for height and head that I just want him to slow done a bit.  Gain some weight, chub up a bit. So now we are on Operation: Fatty.  Feel free to feed him at anytime.

He is a really sweet little guy.  Loves to smile and makes this really weird noise when he is "laughing".  Aunt Fishy calls him Pterodactyl because of the weirdness of the sound. Every time we are around lots of other people, such as church, he just starts yammering away.  My Mother-in-law could hear  him yesterday from several pews in front.  Ryan loves to make noise.  He has sent me to the mother's lounge many of time, simply because he wouldn't be quiet enough to hear what was being said.  Not crying, mind you, just yammering.  He has two teeth that have started and you can see them cutting through.  Ryan keeps you on your toes.

Saturday, December 1, 2012


I will be talking actually bras sizes.  Just a heads up.

Anyone who has ever seen me, is well aware that I have been "blessed" with an ample chest.  It was large in high school and hasn't gone down.  I have three kids, and I have nursed everyone of them.  The girls have been put through the wringer and nature has taken its course.  It is a common joke between my friend Kate (of similar chest size) and I that after we are done having kids, we would love to get a breast reduction.  In fact, when I was getting married and trying to come up with something for a bridesmaid gift, I found a little ceramic jar that said "Boob Job Fund" for Kate.  She loved it.

 The thought mainly comes up after I have had a lousy day trying to find new clothes.  The thought of being able to shop without having to make sure the fabric is stretchy enough to accommodate the girls, or going into the plus size stuff and needing a tailor to alter to actually fit the way it is supposed to, or be able to actually shop in the petite section, and not worry about the shirt becoming a mid-drift shirt.  Buy a button up-shirt that I don't have to wear a white shirt underneath because I risk impaling someone with a flying button should I button it the way it was intended.

 There are the days where my back will be bothering me, but as I have said, I have always been large, so I don't know if the discomfort I feel is so natural feeling to me, that should it be relieved, that I would be kicking myself for having left it for so long.

Well all of this leads to yesterday.  All of my bras are either worn out, wires poked through, or nursing bras that I intend on throwing away soon, so I, with Mom and kids in tow, went to Lane Bryants to get some new bras.  I walked in, found an employee, and ask to be remeasured.  Last time I was measured at 40DD.  It is very hard to find those in normal department stores that don't have the push-up feature to them. But seriously, if they are that big, do they really need pushed up?  I digress.  She takes me to the dressing room, I tell what I have been wearing lately, 42DD, and she promptly says that is not my correct size.  She measures and I was 39 underneath, so I need to be put into a 40 for comfort sake and she doesn't tell me the cup size, just that it is larger. Mind you, I am still nursing, but I had just fed him about 45 minutes before this. She goes and brings me one to try one.  I am spilling out on top.  Big surprise.  I always spill out and it is a huge pet peeve of mine.  She sees the issue and gets me another one.  It fits wonderfully.  Then I looked at the size.  Now I am horrified.  40H.  Not 40E, or F, G, but H. That is equivalent to 40DDDDD.  That is right, 5 Ds.  Explains a lot as to why I can never find a comfortable bra. 40H.  On the plus side, that was the fastest I have ever been through a bra fitting. I bought one and have ordered 3 more to come with in the next week.

Now the idea of breast reduction seems like it a far more realistic possibility.  Something to consider about a year after I am completely done breast feeding.  Anyone know anything about it? I know of one lady who has had it done, but she is the only one.  Feel free to leave a comment.