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What day is this??

11 Jul

Don’t worry, I did NOT fall off the unbreastfeeding wagon, I just needed a good laugh and what else could satisfy my quest for booby humor than Googling “Breastfeeding memes”? Nothing, that’s what.

Unbreastfeeding is going well, still. Everyday gets better and everyday my boobs get smaller (HOORAAYYYYY!). Last night at our monthly reading-the-book-is-optional-it’s-mostly-about-drinking-wine-and-telling-insane-stories-about-our-bosses-and/or-boobs book club, I passed around some iPhone photos I’ve taken over the last few days chronicling this experience.  One friend totally called my shit out when she was all, “Why in the hell do you have 75 pictures of your boobs from various angles on here?! The fuuuu???” and the rest of the girls were all “Dude, you got implants and are just lying about this whole thing” and my sister was all “They’re real. I know ’cause I’ve touched them” (we’re a close family) and I was all “At least I’m wearing a sports bra in all the pictures! Can I at least get like, half a modesty point?” and then we all were like “Can someone please pass me another glass of Skinny Girl White Peach Margarita?! I need something to wash down all this anatomical talk with!” And then we never discussed the book, because what would be the point of book talk when there is boob talk to be had?!

So I failed to mention, because downerrrrr, that two nights ago Navy sucked at sleeping (per his usual finnickery) and was up 3 times. But last night he was asleep from 8-6am!! I mean mind you, for me 6 am is one very blessed hour before my normal wakeup time and that hour is like a brick of gold in worth to me, but since I didn’t have to go up there at all during the night, I figured I wouldn’t just turn off my monitor and ignore him and that I would reward his good night’s sleep with a dignified wakeup and 8 ounces of unbreast milk. Does anyone else sometimes turn their monitors down to silent and just pretend you can’t hear that baby screaming up there? Yeah me either. CPS reader, I’s a good parentz, I swearz it. But really, all non-CPS readers, can we just have a moment here? I mean, I know that if he’s in his crib, he’s contained, he’s free of harm, he’s typically safe, and as long as he’s crying he’s breathing, so I’m going to finish sleeping here and then we’ll address your attitude problem, KID.

Last night, I slept pretty decently, which is totally acceptable. I’ll take decent. I was even able to lay on my quasi-side-stomach. Like, an awkward 45 degree angle with the support of a pillow hugged to my chest. PROGRESS! This whole things sort of reminds me of being pregnant again and having a jumbo watermelon attached to my stomach that I had to work around. Luckily, those long months of nighttime discomfort have prepared me for this discomfort, and I’ve gotten really good at making to-do lists in my head at night to keep me busy during all of that not-sleeping time.

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In other news, I’m working like a bat out of hell to get ready for my upcoming trade show (I leave next Friday and Ha Chee Wa Wa, the amount of stuff left to do is literally like a death wish).  I’m exhibiting my gift and apparel line at the Chicago Gift Show in their handmade exhibit which is held in the Merchandise Mart and it’s all Official and Professional and Fancy and Important and omgwhatamIgoingtowear?! I’ve done several trade shows with my mom as a buyer, and several others with her as an exhibitor for her line, Whimspirations, which is awesome and you should go like her facebook page and then buy all her things. Anyway, it’s literally just as important to look awesome as it is to have awesome products (in my vain opinion). So when I find some time to actually think about MY presentation in addition to my PRODUCTS’ presentation, I intend to post some photos of potential show attire. I’d love your opinions. Basically, I’ll need to know if you would buy hundreds of dollars worth of burp cloths from someone wearing yellow pants. So chew on that for a while and I’ll be back in a few days with some photos a la my new favorite fashion blog ever, J’s Everyday Fashion Blog. You’re welcome for absconding with 3 hours of your afternoon that you will now spend filtering through her photos and outfits. I’m nothing if not an expert time waster, and I am happy to share my know-how on that subject.

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A Girls Getaway (with a one-legged, Asian Rapunzel)

2 May

Saturday night was the first time since Navy was born that I left him with his daddy and a freezerful of pumped boob nectar and hit the road for the Windy City with muh girlfriends {enter sort of sad sniffly goodbye followed by a celebratory bloody mary or two}.  It was totally hard to leave my boys behind, knowing that hello, it’s hard work and Navy can be a squidge demanding and he usually sleeps well but lately he’s been sort of a wild card and man, I need a break but he’s not even 5 months old, and and and… I was slightly conflicted about leaving him at what I consider to still be such a young age, but WORTH IT! SO WORTH IT!!! After 5 months of being with him for damn near 24 hours a day, it just feels really good to have 24 hours where I can wear clothing that doesn’t have puke stains on the shoulders and where the heaviest things my arms need to lug around are shopping bags, not a car seat.

We began the weekend at Grand Lux Cafe for brunch {CHEERS!}.  It was fun and hilarious and we were all like a bunch of slightly tipsy schoolgirls because “EEEEEE no kids AND cocktails before noon, WE ARE REBELZ!!!!!”

The gang, though I must mention this is only 1/2 of the gang – the other 5 were totally missed (and the 10 of us make up the most bitchin’ book club ever, keep your nerd-related comments to yourself).

After we drank ate breakfast, we headed out for a few hours of buzzed shopping, cupcake indulgence and eventually ended up back in our hotel room for more, howdoyousay, imbibing.  It was in said hotel room (a suite that looked like someone may or may not have been bludgeoned and drug bloodily across the janky carpet, though the fresh antiseptic smell would indicate that, at the very least, it wasn’t last night’s guest) that we were informed by our all-too-chummy bellman that the hotel is haunted by a one-legged Asian who looks like Rapunzel. Because OF COURSE IT IS! I’m sorry to say that 4 stars doesn’t guarantee a ghost-less sleep; and for 5 stars you can at least get semi-attractive, non-dismembered ghosts, but you know, we were saving our money for things that didn’t bear any eternal significance on our souls. Because you can’t un-see a Peg-legged Asian Rapunzel, so it’s a good thing she only hangs out on the 3rd floor (this, according to the bellman again, I don’t make this shit up) and we were spared her thumpy (or jumpy?) encounter.

I’ve heard that Skinny Girl is like an Asian ghost’s kryptonite, though I think that’s an unconfirmed fact, so I wouldn’t stay on the 3rd floor of the Wyndham if I were you… even WITH the trifecta of SG in your arsenal.

For dinner, we did some obligatory group primping, and though I wasn’t in a sorority in college, I would imagine that our fancification process was not unlike what the best of the kappa-kappa-yaya-whatever’s underwent on a nightly basis.

Dinner was a feast of raw fish and gimlets at Ra Sushi Bar, and guys? It was to die for. Who thought uncooked fish and sliced avocado could be so good. Also, who thought that a place could charge so much for food that isn’t even cooked? All they do is slice the shit and charge $15 for 4 pieces. I mean, that’s perfectly sensible, except that in order to balance the gimlets, I had to order 75 plates of food, and um… that got a little obscene. I don’t even care, it was chronic.

My big seester and I

Gimme da sushis in my mouf NOMMMMZ

After dinner (and a few cab rides involving one cabby thinking we were hookers on a bachelorette party, and another yet thinking we were members of the most dysfunctional book club ever… not too far from the truth on that one) we retired for a pillow fight in our panties. Not really, but you know, adult slumber parties, Garrett’s Popcorn and the dregs of pre-mixed margaritas lead to something like that… the details of the night remain to be seen, but it was a great time. It wasn’t even awkward that I was pretty much topless the whole time so that I could pump! HIGH FIVES FOR HANGING OUT WITH OTHER WOMEN WHOSE BOOBS HAVE NO DIGNITY LEFT! Or is it simply that I have no dignity and my boobs are just the innocent bystanders? Either way, it seemed totally normal, and my friends are so awesome they even went topless for a while too (don’t get excited… it was a whole lot less sexy mommy-orgy and a whole lot more “isn’t it funny to see Chelssie’s A-cup bra on my E-cup boobs?!?!”). Oh, the progression of slumber parties as you get older… It’s safe to say that older does not equal more mature.