more post birthday psychosis

I’m settling down, slowly. I just keep freaking out. Molly had her check-up yesterday, and has gained 4 or 5 ounces since her 9 months visit. The RN who weighed her said it’s very common for babies to lose or stop gaining for a bit when they start walking. (She also, incedentally, asked if she was on whole milk or formula, and when I said “Breastmilk and a little whole milk,” I felt crazy proud to be nursing with no plans to stop soon. Of course, I also was flip flopping between that pride and anxiety that my milk’s not doing the job very well. Enter more work guilt for not being able to nurse all day, follow that with confused irritated Bu who takes this as criticism for him not working some mythical full time high pay job.)

Our nurse practitioner/LC was very unconcerned. She’s at the 10% mark, a little lower than last time but, again, she wasn’t walking then. She never sits still now. Anyway, she suggested that we try to get more whole milk and expressed breast milk into her during the day. Her strategy? Add a little natural ice cream to the milk to entice her to the sippy. I think she might be a crackhead, but after literally losing sleep over the ice cream plan, I have decided that 1) a little bit at the grandies’ will not hurt her, and 2) I can load her up with avacado, yoghurt/kefir, flax & olive oil enriched stuff and whatever other tasty plant fats I can think of when she’s at home. And there will of course be continued access to the all night mom buffet.

Why am I constantly losing my shit over this perfectionist crazy mom overdrive stuff? Who cries, not because her baby’s a skinny little bit, but because she’ll have OMG a little ice cream? I just unleashed 1 year+ worth of pent up insanity at Bu about my feeling that my wants for Molly are being blocked by everyone. This was spurred after I shared my sweets anxiety with Papaw, telling him how I’m trying so hard to make over my diet so we can all set a good example. I said, I really, really don’t want her to learn our awful habits and end up fat and tired like all of us are and he offered a sarcastic, “Good luck!” It infuriates me. I feel like he’s saying, “Yeh, about that? I’m not making any effort whatsoever and you have no control over her diet when she’s with me, so whatever. I scoff at you, granola mom.”

Anyway, I’m better at the moment. I need some [xanax] Tension Tamer tea, like a gallon. The Birdie & I have been invited to a pool playgroup at a new friend’s farm and I’m stoked. Boue got two new bathing suits for her birthday, and a cutie patootie little froggy towel. I’ll have to try out the swim diapers for the first time. I’m so excited to see how she reacts to a big poolful of water. We need an afternoon of relaxation desperately. I’m driving Bu nuts. I’m driving me nuts.

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