Parenting Naked
So the pictures that accompany this posting have nothing to do with the content. As you read on, you will understand why. But, I couldn't resist posting a few shots of one of the loves of my life.
Getting dressed post pregnancy is depressing. Shirts are tight and pants don't zip. Socks are about the only item of clothing that still fit. However, leaving the house in socks only is clearly not an option.
Yesterday we had a funeral to attend. I put on a black dress that fit. It practically fit like it did pre-pregnancy which immediately meant I was wearing this dress! As we ventured out of the house and arrived at the cemetery, Baby P decided it was time to eat. It was only then I realized that there was not an access route for P to get to his food. The only way for this baby to eat was for this dress to come off. Completely off. Clearly, I am a novice at dressing for breastfeeding.
Since taking my dress off at the cemetery or even in a car at the cemetery was not an option, we had to wait until we all gathered at a family members house, at which time I asked for a room in which I could undress to feed P. Now I find the situation humorous and I learned a valuable lesson; When getting dressed, make sure there is easy access to my breasts.
Later that same night as our family of 3 was preparing for bed, I was sitting on the couch feeding P. I was dressed in my pajamas and P was in his sleep sack. Scott kissed us both good night and said he would see me shortly as P was almost done feeding. About 5 minutes later, P finished and suddenly his little mouth opened and erupted like Old Faithful. Not just a little spit up came out, it surged. And then it surged again. And then it surged about two more times. My shirt, my bra, my shorts and underwear were soaked. P's face, hair, and sleep sack were also covered. Here it was 10:15 at night and my baby and I were not only covered in milk puke but we smelled like milk puke.
My first thought was to holler for Scott but then I figured, your a big girl Kara, you can take care of this. So I laid P down and stripped off all of my clothes. Once I was stripped down, I stripped our son down. I picked him up to carry him into the kitchen for a bath when suddenly our bedroom door opened. Scott emerged to see his naked wife holding his naked son in the glow of the television screen. I had to laugh because I know he was thinking "What in God's name is going on?" Not to mention the look on his face was priceless. This was not the sight he expected to see. I explained the situation and he assisted in cleaning up the milky mess. He thought it was even more humorous than I did. Probably because he wasn't the naked one covered in a gallon of spit up.
I'm still contemplating if I should wear clothes today.
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Getting dressed post pregnancy is depressing. Shirts are tight and pants don't zip. Socks are about the only item of clothing that still fit. However, leaving the house in socks only is clearly not an option.
Yesterday we had a funeral to attend. I put on a black dress that fit. It practically fit like it did pre-pregnancy which immediately meant I was wearing this dress! As we ventured out of the house and arrived at the cemetery, Baby P decided it was time to eat. It was only then I realized that there was not an access route for P to get to his food. The only way for this baby to eat was for this dress to come off. Completely off. Clearly, I am a novice at dressing for breastfeeding.
Since taking my dress off at the cemetery or even in a car at the cemetery was not an option, we had to wait until we all gathered at a family members house, at which time I asked for a room in which I could undress to feed P. Now I find the situation humorous and I learned a valuable lesson; When getting dressed, make sure there is easy access to my breasts.
Later that same night as our family of 3 was preparing for bed, I was sitting on the couch feeding P. I was dressed in my pajamas and P was in his sleep sack. Scott kissed us both good night and said he would see me shortly as P was almost done feeding. About 5 minutes later, P finished and suddenly his little mouth opened and erupted like Old Faithful. Not just a little spit up came out, it surged. And then it surged again. And then it surged about two more times. My shirt, my bra, my shorts and underwear were soaked. P's face, hair, and sleep sack were also covered. Here it was 10:15 at night and my baby and I were not only covered in milk puke but we smelled like milk puke.
My first thought was to holler for Scott but then I figured, your a big girl Kara, you can take care of this. So I laid P down and stripped off all of my clothes. Once I was stripped down, I stripped our son down. I picked him up to carry him into the kitchen for a bath when suddenly our bedroom door opened. Scott emerged to see his naked wife holding his naked son in the glow of the television screen. I had to laugh because I know he was thinking "What in God's name is going on?" Not to mention the look on his face was priceless. This was not the sight he expected to see. I explained the situation and he assisted in cleaning up the milky mess. He thought it was even more humorous than I did. Probably because he wasn't the naked one covered in a gallon of spit up.
Like this blog? Leave a comment! Feedback makes me happy! :)
Ha ha ha this brings back so many memories with my kiddos. So funny that he walked in just at that moment...love it!
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