Friday, July 17, 2009

And then there was none

On July 5th, I started working at the Black Cat Bistro again. My former boss posted on Facebook that she needed a kitchen assistant. I told her if it was Saturday and Sundays I could do it.

She called me 5 minutes later. And the next day I accepted her job offer.

I worked at the Black Cat about 3 years ago after quitting my well-paying (but horrible) job working for a crazy attorney (redundant?). I had so much fun that summer. I met Annie, I got paid to cook and drink wine (which normally costs me money when I do it at home) and I made a lot of good friends, like Annie, Luis and Alexis. Deborah, the owner, and I had known each other for awhile and we had already fallen in love years before I started working there.

The job gives me a chance to earn some cash, to get out of the house without the baby (I mean, I guess I could wear her in the Ergo while I'm in the kitchen, but there's probably some child labor law against that) and gives Geoff a chance to hang out with his daughter.

It also means that I gotta pump in order to make sure little miss Noonie-Monster gets her nightcap.

I was surprised (and relieved) when Geoff reported that Phoebe knew exactly what to do with the bottle full (well, sorta full) of milk I had left 2 weeks ago because she's never taken a bottle before in her life. Geoff said she took it, downed it, and then went to bed without complaint. Of course. And she always waves "Hello" and "Bye Bye" as soon as people turn their backs.

Tonight will be my 2nd night back and so after putting Phoebe down for her nap, I sat down on the sofa, turned the TV to Food Network and started pumping.

For 15 minutes.

And got ... about a tablespoon of milk.

The pediatrician had warned me at the last appointment that li'l miss <3% for weight (seriously, the sheet has a less than sign in front of her weight percentage) probably wasn't really getting that much milk these days and was probably mostly just nursing for comfort. I told him I was okay with that. He suggested we supplement her diet with whole milk.

Phoebe was NOT having the whole milk.

Or the formula I borrowed from Jocelyn to see if she'd like that.


Water or mommy's noonies. That's all she wants.

I'm reminded of the first time I pumped in the hospital (Phoebe didn't eat right away because of her meconium ingestion) and all I got was that little tablespoon of colostrum and I told the lactation consultant, disappointed, "All I got was a tablespoon, we should probably just throw it out, right?"

And she said "Oh NO! That's GOLD! That's the best milk for the baby!"

That's all she needed at that moment.

And so now the issue becomes ... after defending so much our extended nursing lifestyle, how long will this continue? She's clearly not nursing enough to keep up my milk production, but she enjoys it still. Maybe this is all she needs right now.

My brother and I had blankies well until we were old enough not to have them. I remember when my uncle took Kyle's away and I thought it was so mean. He wanted to have it! What's the big deal?

We all grow up. That's what happens.

I just don't know if I'm ready for Phoebe to grow up just yet. I'm not sure if I ever will be ready.

I don't know what's going to happen tonight when I'm at work, drinking a beer with my boss, making salads and desserts.

At some point, I suppose, Phoebe and Geoff will have to learn their own habits for going nigh-nigh.

And as I think about Phoebe getting old enough to turn from milk to bread, I think about all the other ways in which she's going to outgrow me.

But I don't want to think about that right now. I still have at least a tablespoon's worth of comfort waiting for her in the refrigerator.

And a whole lot more than that right here in my heart, just waiting for the moment she'll need it.

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