Radical Reality:True Confessions of New Mom

it's 7:55. I'm already tired enough that I could almost go to bed.
I'm currently typing in my underwear (which I might ass have a smiley face formation of three holes in the crotch

chewed by the puppy I am fostering, due to the fact I haven't picked up up my laundry more than a handful of times since the babys been born)and drinking coconut water and eating chocolate chips out of a bowl, and PRAYING my daughter, as much as I love her, does not wake up before I finish writing this.

She was fed formula for the second time in her life today (the first was on the day she was born in the hospital Newborn ICU unit, and not my choice). This is because today is also the day that I turned in my Final Graduate Exam Paper "for the fulfillment of requirements of the Masters of Arts of Arts Education" as I dutifully typed on the cover page. Never mind that I was still working on it at 4:20, 10 minutes before the deadline when at least one other younger student who does NOT have kids was probably celebrating being finished by getting stoned. Never mind the fact that I was printing it off still at 4:40, and that the citations were deeply flawed, the images weren't all in color or present at all, and the paper wasn't proofread at all. The fact is I got it in.

Unfortunately for my self esteem and hopefully not for Piper's health, perhaps due to stess I was not able to pump enough milk to feed her for the final five hours I was on campus trying desperately to finish the paper, the first attempt, no more than a table spoon, which went into the coffee I shared with my husband this morning (hey,it tastes like coffee mate and we were out of half and half) and the other attempt barely able to coat the bottom of the bottle, washed down the drain...

Ofcourse I fed her when I got home, and ofcourse I am lucky to have a supportive and reliable husband who I can trust to have the baby by himself for five hours, and of course only AFTER the Bloody Maria (bloody mary mix + tequila=delicious, especially with little lemon, wosteshire, pickled peppers and the traditional celery...) and the glass of wine WITH dinner of sausage and lentil soup from a recipient on Pinterest (which my husband made on the first of the last two evenings I spent typing till 1:30 on a paper due less than 48 hours later)

THEN and ONLY THEN did my milk come in enough to pump, which likely will either be dumped or put into my husbands next White Russian in case of emergency

(thsi is "the dude". this is not my husband. If you are not acquainted with "the dude", make one of those drinks and introduce yourself

and ofcourse she woke up before I finished writing this. and I did try the formula wich I thankfully had left out in warm water, just in case...and though at first it was awkward and I accidentally gleeked it in her face, and I felt guilty and also was a little offended that she seemed to take it as readily as the boob, was disturbed to find it gave her almost instantaneous explosive whoopie cushion sound shits

(no joke) and was vindicated to find that after a coupla minutes she started making frownie confused faces and started rooting for my boob...which I have to admit I gave her.
so she'll sleep a little better tonight. at least it's natural. and after tasting the forumla, I don't blame her. The remainder of the four pack will be for EMERGENCY STARVATION SITUATIONS only.
and hopefully not just for emergency Margarita...

ok that's enough honesty for one night...
hope ya'll have a good weekend.
I know I will...looks like I have a babysitter tomorrow night!
(might need that formula sooner than I thought)
xxx
jess
ps. please excuse typos. after not even having the energy to proofread my final paper, especially after said bloody maria, I cannot bring myself to effectively edit this one.