Magical Orbs

Since everyone's blog post titles tonight are about the new year, in my usual pain in the ass contrarian way I will title mine Magical Orbs, which of course refers to my breastasiz. Which featured hugely in last night's festivities.

I am pleased to note I got through a very complex New Year's gig and New Year's Day with a certain aplomb. Loaded up the car, drove 1 1/2 hours north to drop the baby with the friend's visiting mother who was also watching their three-year-old. It hit me too late that a three-year-old boy may not understand how to play safely with a baby...but thankfully the family texted me pictures and updates throughout the night to keep my mind at ease. Drove another hour north to the gig.

The gig was in a great old Santa Barbara ballroom where we used to play fairly often years ago - so it was very nostalgic, and familiar. Also lots of old friends, including several who ditched out on my party, so it was good to get a do-over on spending time with them and catching up. Since Bumpus and the three-year-old crashed out at 10:30, I had the freedom to do something I haven't been able to do in probably over a year - go out to eat after the gig and talk shop with my fellow dancers. I miss being able to do that so much it almost makes me cry. But that's the subject of another post (FOMO). I've never once had the freedom of a sitter who wasn't on the clock until last night. You gals with willing family member sitters are so lucky!

Anyway, I had a really nice time, except for my giant, angry boobs that by 4:00 am and twelve hours since the last feed were so engorged and painful that it was almost unbearable. When I got back to the apartment where B was being watched and I was spending the night, and found him asleep, I ripped off my shirt and dangled my left boob above B's face like a magical orb just to see what he'd do. Even in his sleep he sensed The Force was in the room with him, and immediately turned his head, reached up, and suckled. It was too much for him and he puked back much of it (sorry TMI). Still and all that night even waking him up from time to time to make him eat wasn't enough - I still woke up with hard boobs. It reminded me of when my milk first came in - and I started to worry about ending up with mastitis or something.

Today I spent a pleasant afternoon on State street in Santa Barbara with my single girlfriends trashing men (my favorite hobby) and walking around with once again angry full boobs. It's amazing how one long night not feeding the baby will jack your whole system up! When I got home tonight I just strapped on the pump for some relief, and pumped out about 7 oz, a personal record. I finally feel better.

I did have a bit of a revelation, though, one that raises unpleasant realities. I often wondered why B sleeps so much better with sitters or at the Baby Kennel. I had an inkling it's because my magical orbs are not there at the ready. And I think this may be true - last night, if he really did fall asleep at 10:30, he didn't wake until I woke him at 4:00 or so; and then didn't wake much after that either. Which means he slept a longer stretch without me than with me. Which confirms my suspicion that he's only waking a lot at night to snack or use my breasts as pacifiers - not that he's actually hungry. Which makes me wonder - should he sleep separately from me? If he did would we both sleep better? Is the allure of my milk-filled jugs too much for the little guy? How the hell do I get him to sleep without me at this point? Ugh!

And boy would I kill for an unbroken night's sleep! Can that be my New Year's resolution? Sleep longer than four hours just once? Sigh.

Here are some pics of me at the gig and the baby having fun with his babysitters. He rang in the New Year in his tuxedo onesie.