Boobs, boobs, boobs

That’s right. Today I’m going to talk about boobs. Motherhood, at least during the early months, is all-about the boobs. Previous to having kids I had no idea how important boobs are going to be in my feeling like a successful parent. When I was pregnant and was preparing to be a mother, I thought things like my bachelor's degree in education, and my graduate courses in child psychology would save the day.

Oh how naive I was!! None of those classes prepared me for the early months of motherhood. After having kids, now I know that nothing makes you feel more like a successful mom than a pair of well working boobs.

Before having kids, the world of boobs was simple- small or large boobs and fake or real boobs.
They were merely body parts that made you look a certain way. I didn't know that boobs can look and feel in so many different ways. I didn't know that boobs can do so much:

Nursing boobs
Lactating boobs
Engorged boobs
Lopsided boobs
Cracked nipple boobs
Sagging boobs
Leaking boobs
Soft boobs
Hard boobs
Head rest boobs
Sleep aid boobs
Sore boobs
Enflamed boobs
Throbbing boobs
The list goes on

Your baby’s world revolves around your boobs. Your life revolves around your boobs. When your boobs are not in working order, you feel stressed, you feel like a failure, and unfit to be a mother. I don’t care how helpful your spouse might be- unless he has a pair of boobs, he is simply not THAT helpful.

As I sit here, nursing my baby, I am so thankful for my boobs. Who knew my boobs could endure so much? I’m celebrating my boobs, and all the other tired, sleep deprived and overworked boobs out there.

Ooh, ouch! My teething baby is adding another one to the list.

Beef Jerky Boobs.

New Year's Resolution

Every year, as long as I can remember, my new year’s resolution began with “lose 5 pounds.” Actually, this “5 pounds” quickly grew to “lose 10 pounds” when I turned 30, then it became “lose 15 pounds” with baby #1.

Like all things passé, I grew sick and tired of the never ending “lose weight” resolution. Rather than starting 2009 with “lose 25 pounds” after baby #2, I decided now is the time. It’s time to embrace and celebrate the new me.

To celebrate this liberating moment, I decided to go shopping for a bathing suit. Who cares if I’m big as a whale? Now I’ve got boobs. I’ve never owned a pair of bikinis because I’ve always been so flat chested. This was my one chance to actually own a pair of bikinis. I was thrilled!!

I was pleased to find the store well stocked with a new 2009 shipment of bathing suits. I walked right past the one piece bathing suits. Sneering at the section of Speedos, and other “granny” swimsuits, I was determined to get me a pair of hot bikinis. I was on a mission. South Beach here I come. I was determined to be the hottest mama in my toddler’s swim class at the Y.

I tried on a halter top from Juicy Couture. I was absolutely floored! My boobs were too big for the Juicy top!! All my life I wished for boobs that can fill a bikini top, and now my boobs were suffocating behind the bikini top. There was nothing neither glamorous nor feminine about my boobs. Definitely NOT Juicy. I tried on another cute piece from Lucky Brand. I couldn’t even recognize my own body. I quickly realized that I’ve been so busy, I haven’t even had any time to look at my body. The body in the mirror, was definitely not me. Who’s body was this with the sagging boobs, hardly any waist, and huge arms? I also discovered the flatness from my chest have moved on to find a home with my derrière. Crazy! Where did my butt go?

Completely deflated, I couldn’t stand another mockery. I quickly got out of the fitting room, and dragged myself towards the one piece bathing suits. I stood in front of what I initially brushed off as the “granny suits” section. As if it’s written for people who couldn’t read without reading glasses, the huge tags read “Magic Suit by Miracle Suit. Look 7 lbs Slimmer in Seconds!” Desperate to find something, anything, I quickly grabbed the miracle suit, and rushed to the fitting room. It was miraculous. The Miracle Suit covered me, hugged me, and hid me in all the right places!!

Unlike other years, I will not try to watch my carbs or hit the gym this year. I am not going to fret over the extra pounds, and lament over the lost youth. I’m going to celebrate 2009 with my new Miracle Suit bathing suit. I just hope I don’t bump into any ladies from the senior class at the Y wearing the same bathing suit.

Cake Anyone?

Yesterday morning, my husband dropped us off at my son’s preschool friend's birthday party. My toddler son was very excited, and couldn't wait to open the door and say "happy birthday, can I have cake?". A birthday party for a 2 year old is really, all about the cake. I went inside with both kids to join a room full of 2 yr olds singing "O Macdonald Had A Farm." My son dropped my hand, and dashed to the kitchen to see if he can get a glimpse of the cake. We sang a few more silly songs, then headed out to the backyard, where kids can have lunch, make lots of mess, and of course, eat the cake. I strapped my infant on the baby carrier on my back, and took my son outside. He did great eating his pizza, sucking out every drop of juice out of his SunKist, and I managed to mingle with other parents. During events like these, I always feel a little bit more conscience about how my child behaves because after all, he is a reflection of my parenting, no? I want to make sure he shares, he doesn't bother anyone, and he would be obedient. One of the moms came over and asked me how I potty trained my son. As luck would have it, he is one of the first child to be potty trained in his class of 6 two year olds (and he wasn't even trained that early!). I talked about the Potty Training in One Day method, and talked about being surprised with how well my son’s been doing w/o diapers.

Then I saw from the corner of my eyes, twisting his legs like he has to go to the bathroom. You see how the story is going. But wait, it's much worse. I grabbed my son quickly, and headed into the house. He whined "No, no, I'm not ready yet". Well, Mr. Not-Ready-Yet, had a little bit of an accident already, and I was mortified to see a brown spot on his underwear. I scolded him, stripped him away from his soiled underwear, and made him sit on the potty to finish his business. My baby started to fidget and whimper on my back. I quickly considered my options. Do I let my son go commando or do I dress him in a pink Dora pull-up pants complement of the host family? I decided against the Dora pull up pants because I was not about to put my child in a pull-up, not even 5 mins after my speech to other moms about how I successfully potty trained my child. I wiped my child’s behind, and flushed the toilet. I flushed once, then twice. Then the water kept on rising and rising, and my son started screaming "Mama, I wet". Then the water started pouring out of the toilet. I couldn't believe it. Much to my horror, the water didn't simply "leak" ... it started to shoot our with such gusto, it almost looked like a fire hydrant. The Hoover Dam was demolished and Niagara Fall was over flooded. I quickly lifted my son and placed him inside the bath tub. I tried to reach for the little knob on the bottom of the toilet- no success. No plunger in site. No bucket in site. Water continued to pour out covering the bathroom floor, then out to the hall way. My son’s pants actually started to float down towards the door. Pieces of his poop started to float down towards the hallway. I just stood there dumbfounded, unable to think, or move in my son's poop water. My toddler started to scream and my infant started to cry. That's when I heard people singing "Happy Birthday" outside.

Then my toddler wailed " I want cake!!! Waaaaaa!!"

Portable plunger anyone? I'll be sure to pack one in my diaper bag next time. Oh, did my son get to eat his cake? He sure did eat a huge slice of cake sitting next to his friends, wearing nothing but his t-shirt and a pink Dora pull up pants.

Glam I Am...NOT!

Finding the perfect dress for a cocktail party used to be like finding the perfect mate. You have certain criterias, a picture in your mind, then you go out and shop. Given your past successes and failures, you narrow down your choices, and you go to the stores where you are most likely to find the dress you have in mind. You try on a few at your first stop, then you go to another store, just to comparison shop or to rationalize your choice. If you fall in love with the way you look in the mirror, you justify the price, fantasize the new you, and plan the rest of the assemble. It is magical and glamorous.

I recently had to go shopping for a cocktail dress and I am here to report that postpartum shopping excursion with 2 screaming kids is anything but glamorous. It's actually more like running the Amazing Race, while carrying two small people, and dodging grenades from all sides. After feeding, changing, cleaning, packing and bribing the kids, we headed out to the Neiman Marcus Outlet. I knew I had at best about 40 mins before someone was going to need to feed or go to potty. I had no idea what size, color, or style would flatter me. Since I was size 4/6 before pregnancy, I decided that size 8 would be my best bet. I grabbed everything from hot halter dress to grandma's Sunday church dress. When I physically couldn't hold any more dresses, I rushed to the dressing room with son flying behind me. I was determined to meet my glamorous dress.

The dressing room was empty, so I parked my stroller in the handicap room, and started the "amazing race". I tried on my first batch of 12 dresses. I began with a few Laundry dresses, BCBGs, and Nicole Millers - these are "safe bets". My safe bets quickly turned into disappointments as I struggled to squeeze into those tiny dresses. I would walk out to show the dressing room girl and she would say hesitantly, "well...I don't think that's your best look." My toddler began to get restless, and my 6 month old daughter began to whimper. I had no time to ponder or re-try on dresses. I raced through my next batch of 12 dresses. The person in the mirror (moi) looked so terrible, I felt embarrassed to even step outside of my dressing room. My son began to mumble "too small, too small" like an autistic child. Some of the dresses hugged my chest so tightly, my boobs started to leak! (don't worry, I was still wearing my nursing bra). This is when I decided to nurse my baby hoping to fit into some of those dresses. Since when did they make size 8 feel like size 6? I put the baby back in the car seat and tried on my next batch of dresses hoping that somehow nursing would simply shrink me to a perfect 8. Desperate to find at least one flattering dress, I even tried on some couture dresses. I grabbed a beautiful navy blue Armani dress, and tried to squeeze into its "size 8". When I finally managed to zip it up, I was horrified to see how a $2100 dress made me look so waist-less and un-glamorous

Feeling completely depleted, I tried to unzip and unwind from this unpleasant dress. Problem was, Armani hugged me so tight, I couldn't unzip it enough to get the dress off. I squirmed this way and that to no success. My son started to rock the baby's car seat and she started to wail. After several desperate squirming and breathing exercises, I decided my only option was to pull up the dress...over my head. Somehow I managed to pull it up (actually more like "roll it up") the dress over my chest. I tried to quickly pull the dress over my shoulder, and...it wouldn't move at all. There I was, my shoulder and head stuck under a beautiful Armani dress unable to move an inch. Sweat drops started forming on my nose. I could feel my own breath heating up my head inside the dress. "You ok mama?" asked my two year old.

My daughter's cry crew louder and louder. I couldn't even pick up the baby because my arms were stuck, pointing straight up to the ceiling. I had two options - I can do the incredible hulk and just break free of the dress by force, or I can ask the dressing room girl to help me. Luckily, the girl walked by and asked if everything was ok. I was so humiliated. She finally managed to peel me off the dress. She looked at the mountain of "no" dresses, and said "maybe you should try on a different size".

By this point, shopping was anything but fun. After trying out 48 dresses in a mad rush, and feeling slightly light headed, I managed to find a decent dress... IN SIZE TEN!! Nothing against size 10, but it's just not me, or wasn't me. I sheepishly thanked the dressing room girl. And get this. The dressing room girl, who looked at best a size ZERO and 18 yrs old, turns to me and says "Don't worry. I had a hard time finding my size after I had my baby as well"

OUCH!! Glam I am definitely NOT!

Where Are the Shopping Carts?

I love Target. Before having kids, I used to be appalled at how these mega-stores would drive out those innocent local mom-pop shops. Now, I shamelessly LOVE the convenience of a one-stop-shop. The Target in North Carolina even had groceries, and I was there literally every day. I love the wide isles where I can drive the shopping cart without bumping into anything, and the fact that there's always something interesting for my 2 yr old. Price is always reasonable, and I love the fact that the workers carry around those guns that can do the inventory checks instantly. I even began buying clothes at Target. I figured, if it's cool enough for Isaac Mizrahi, it's cool enough for me. I love the fact that I can just go there, just as I am. At Target, I don't feel like I'm out of style, out of shape, or out of my league. It's a very accepting and a non-judgemental place.

I was reflecting on this love affair with Target as I pulled into the parking lot today. I got out of the car and began looking for a shopping cart. I was a bit surprised that I couldn't find any Target shopping carts in the parking lot! I thought about quickly running into the store to grab a cart, but decided that leaving two kids unattended in the car was a bad idea. So I waited for someone to walk by with an empty cart. I couldn't believe it! There were no Target shopping carts to be found! What is going on? Is Target cutting back on their shopping carts? Are they in some sort of a financial trouble? Is there some special sale inside where everyone is using their shopping carts?

I finally saw this large black man walking towards me. He obviously didn't work for Target, but I was beginning to get desperate. "Excuse me, do you know where I can get a shopping cart for Target?" I asked. What I really meant was "Dude, I have 2 little kids in the car. Would you be a dear and grab a shopping cart for me from inside of the store?" He stopped, looked at me, shook his head then started walking away. Unbelievable! You don't ignore a sleep deprived, hormone charged postpartum woman who changed like 10 poopy diapers just this morning, and took over an hour to get the two kids ready to make the trip to Target. I asked him again in more firm, don't-mess-with-a-postpartum-woman voice. " Do you know where I can get a shopping cart from Target?"

Finally, he stopped, shook his head again and says "ma'am, if you want a Target shopping cart, you'll have to go to Target",

And that's when I realized, I was parked in the Wal-Mart Parking lot. Somehow I made a wrong turn, and ended up at Wal-Mart, across the street from Target.

Crazy!

People Watching at the Park

These days the highlight of my social outing has been going to this neighborhood concert in the park. It's funny how my social life revolves around parks and playgrounds these days. With arrival of my second child, going to the park even seems like a luxury. Since my poor husband was working late (again!) today, I packed the two kids, changed into something without noticeable stains, and headed out to the park.

While watching my toddler son with one eye, and my infant in the stroller, I couldn't help but to notice the vast number of people and the diverse lives they represent. In the sand pit, there was the leathery tanned guy with his questionably blond bombshell wife, trying to "play" with his daughter without bending down. Next to them, a guy stood in his work clothes, with his blackberry in one hand, telling his son to stop putting sand in his mouth. Then there was the Chinese guy wearing what should be an undershirt and workout pants with the white stripe on the side, saying something in Chinese to his toddler son with the rice bowl haircut. And of course, every park in Silicon Valley has someone wearing a shirt from a high-tech company who seems to be "working from home" while spending oh-so quality time with their kid in the park. I must confess my least favorite are those ex-sorority moms still looking fabulous in their tight fitting clothes, and loud laughs. When, and how do they find the time to get their hair highlighted, and toes pedicured?

And there I was, people watching while sitting at the bench to nurse Sabine who was covered in a hooter-hider (nursing cover). Everything was fine, except, I was so tired and absorbed in the people watching, I didn't even realize that the wind had blown over, and the only thing the hooter-hider was covering was my baby's face!! That's right, I just let my postpartum stomach and the side of my lactating boob hang out, flashing the world.

I'll have to switch parks next week.

Fashion Nazi

Don't you wish more stores would stay open past 9 pm? Even the grocery stores usually don't stay open past 10pm. Since my "free" time is usually from 9-10:30 pm or so, I wish the world would remain open a bit later.

I just came back from Whole Foods, where they celebrate being lean, clean, and definitely green. Next to the $3.99/lb fuji apples section, I discovered this woman, obviously pregnant, picking at some fruits. Nothing wrong with being pregnant of course -been there done that. But I was apalled to see that this poor woman was wearing her elastic skirt over her bump, and had her white t-shirt tucked in. Empire style I guess. As if that was not bad enough, she was wearing a pair of neon green crocs, that seemed way too big for her.

Shortly after, I walked over to the frozen food isle, and what did I see? That's right- I saw the reflection of someone that was supposed to be me. My pig tails were uneven, bangs too long, and I was flabbergasted to see that I was standing there in public wearing my nursing camisole!! That wouldn't be so bad if my belly wasn't sticking out- making me look like I'm still pregnant, and if I didn't have any milk stains around my boobs. To make the matter worse, I only had one nursing pad on (the thick kind that looks like a shoulder pad) so one boob looked HUGE next to the other one. Crazy!

Suddenly, the pregnant woman with elastic skirt and the neon green crocs didn't look so bad. At least she wasn't wearing what's meant to be an underwear in public. Did I mention that this WholeFoods is only 2 blocks away from my old corporate HQ? I got the heck outta there as soon as I can!

I'm in no position to be a pregnant woman's fashion nazi, that's for sure!

Rules that never stuck in our household...

Top 7 "Rules" that never stuck in our house

Rule #7 Don't watch too much TV
- Now I beg my son to watch his Thomas video so I can sleep extra 20 mins.

Rule #6 Please leave the room if you have to fart
- Well my pregnancy pretty much took care of this rule. Postpartum still gives me gas!

Rule #5 When you remember to call your mother, don't forget to call my mother too

Rule #4 Birthday, anniversary, mother's day etc,. gifts should be given by the actual date- no IOUs, delays for days, months or years!
- Right. I now order my own gift via the internet

Rule #3 Never go to bed angry at each other
- If you got this one mastered, I would love to know your secret!

Rule #2 Don't forget to wipe down the toilet and the floor around the toilet after each time you pee
- Didn't work with husband. Doubtful if it's going to work with my toilet training 2 year old

Rule #1. "Can you take care of #2 at work??"
- Seems like a reasonable request, but perhaps it can be a career limiting move to be known as the "toilet guy"