Sooo..after lurking for awhile, I finally caved and created my own blog. I figure it will be an outlet for me to maintain my sanity and put my sarcasm in writing for all to read for all of eternity. That's a good thing, no? I also plan on using this as a way to record the children's milestones. I'm pretty much an all-around baby book failure. So maybe this can supplement. Plus, why shouldn't I make my ramblings available to all? It would be selfish to keep them to myself.

Anywho, some background information. My name is Erin. I am a 24 year old, married mother of two. My husband is Matt. My son, Riley, is 3. My daughter, Macie, is 10 weeks old (TODAY. squeee. Because only I care).

I will be entering the last semester of my bachelors in health care administration. I am looking into ways to get my RN license. I am not sure if that will be through an associates degree, or a direct entry masters program. I currently work as a pediatric phlebotomist (drawer of the blood). Who doesn't love me?

And now onto the bane of my existence (well of my existence today): breastmilk. Yes, that is correct. Breastmilk is the bane of my existence. Breastmilk and all that goes along with it. I did not breastfeed Riley. I know, devil mother. Killer of children. Feeder of poison. I pumped for a few weeks. And that was that. I was fine with my decision. With Macie I was determined to breastfeed. DETERMINED I say. In the hospital she didn't latch well. And it hurt. "But it's not supposed to hurt" BUT IT DOES. I want to cry while my daughter eats. How fun is this? But I pushed through. Enter high bilirubin levels, blood draws, bili blankets (rant for another day) and formula. Apparently formula is supposed to bring the levels down. So out I went to sell my soul for a breastpump. Expensive? Yes. Annoying? Yes. Exit first week of life and exit high bilirubin levels. Re-enter pain. Eventually the pain did lessen. Enter inconsolable crying. And not just "oh the baby is crying" but "oh the baby is SCREAMING and I want to scratch my eyes out". Sometimes I felt as though she screamed to mock my attempts to console her. Sometimes I cried with her. Then I realized she hurt. Her stomach hurt. All the time. You know that crazyyyy mom that calls the pediatrician's office all the time? That was me. Like "Ohhh hellllppp meee. My baby is crying." "Yeah lady. Babies do that. {What an idiot. Call Child Protective Services}. So I let it go. Until I realized Baby M was either screaming or sleeping (and wimpering while she slept). So I called again. "My baby hurts." "Ma'am, you're breastfeeding. That shouldn't be happening" "BUT IT ISSSS" "Well breastfeeding doesn't cause discomfort" "Oh. OK. I'll tell that to my baby in 3 hours when she stops crying long enough to eat, only to start screaming like a banshee immediately after" "OK Ma'am. Have a good day" "Sure. All my days are good. If good makes you want to rip your hair out and consider leaving your baby alone in the house so you can just hear yourself think FOR THE LOVE OF GOD". So I did some research. I determined maybe I had an oversupply. I pumped an ounce off before nursing. The only difference was my frustration level. What's more fun than painful nursing and a constantly screaming baby? Painful nursing, a constantly screaming baby AND pumping while your baby screams. I also cut out dairy, "gassy veggies", spicy food, and, well, all food. No difference. Sooo I called again. "Ma'am that's weird. I can't imagine why that would be happening. (Unless you're punching your kid all day)" "BUT IT IS. IT IS HAPPENING". So I went out and bought baby poison aka formula. I'm all for breastfeeding. Really I am. I think I gave it a damn good try. Short piercing my eardrums so I couldn't hear the screaming, I think I tried everything possible. So I did the only other thing I could think of. I gave my baby formula. (judge judge judge). And.....it worked. The very next day my demon was replaced with a baby. A real live baby. One that smiled. And opened its eyes. OHMYGAWD. This is how the other side lives. Macie looked around as if she was seeing everything for the first time. Because she was. For five weeks all she had done was scream. And thrash. And claw. And scream some more. Since then I have been pumping. JOY OF JOYS. Until yesterday. Yesterday I gave her a bottle of half formula, half breastmilk. And...baby in devil form. Coincidence? I think NOT. Booyah stupid nurse from pediatrician's office! Yes, I derive joy from proving others wrong, even if it makes it sound like I am glad my breastmilk makes my baby sick. Point is, I was right and to me, that is what matters. So, in short formula=exorcism.