Month 2: Venturing Out

Two months old. 14+ pounds. I have given birth to a budding sumo wrestler. And I have the biceps to prove it. Miles is one good eater, I’ll give him that. The kid hasn’t missed a meal since he entered the world a few short weeks ago.

I’m consuming calories like Kirstie Alley at a Krispy Kreme and somehow I’ve still managed to shed most of the 37 lbs. I gained during my pregnancy. (My belly button, however, shows no signs of returning to its former state. Seems that being turned inside out for months on end was enough to permanently change my innie to an outie.)

Now that our steady stream of houseguests has dissipated, I’m starting to go a bit stir-crazy stuck at home all day. Let’s face it, Miles isn’t much of a conversationalist. Ask him what he thinks of the war in Iraq -- oh, let’s be honest, the return of the skinny jean -- and his only response is a wide-eyed stare. Maybe the occasional gummy grin. And as cute as those grins are, it’s tough to fill the day with “This Little Piggy.” (I mean, there are only five, and I can’t even remember what piggies three and four do.)

So I went in search of a social life for Miles and me. First I lied and said he was 6 weeks old when he was really only 5 weeks so we could sign up for Mommy & Me yoga. This was my first foray into exercise since I’d birthed the little bruiser. Let me tell you, hoisting a hefty little guy with no neck control on one hip while attempting the triangle pose is no easy feat. But at least we were around other people, including a couple of tiny 6-month-old girls who were dwarfed by Miles’ girth.

Next, we showed up for story time at the library. The librarian insisted babies from birth on up were welcome, but once again, my guy was the youngest one there. So he slept in the sling most of the time, and the finger puppets accompanying “Five Little Monkeys” were lost on someone who can’t see 6 inches past his face. So what? Again, at least we were out and about instead of parked on the couch watching Regis & Kelly.

A new moms’ support group at the local hospital served only to make me count my lucky stars that Miles knows his way around a nipple. Some of these poor moms were spending literally all day long pumping and feeding their babies with these little syringe thingies. They were near tears as they described trying everything under the sun to get their little ones to latch on. Clearly not a problem my chunky monkey shares.

Speaking of breastfeeding, a friend who’s active in La Leche League invited me to a meeting. I was not sure I wanted to stage a “nurse-in” at Starbucks or learn how to discreetly breastfeed a toddler. But boredom got the better of me, and I went. In all fairness, the women there were all very pleasant. I just couldn’t get past the 3-year-old boy who walked up to his mother, who was nursing his baby sister on one breast, and said, “Save the other one for me.”

So Miles and I continue to search for ways to occupy ourselves. A trip to the pediatrician is a big day for us. We stretch out our daily walks with the dog, and we invent reasons to go to the grocery store. (Hey, the recipe called for a rutabaga!) Sometimes we call up C. and beg him to meet us for lunch.

At least we have our yoga class. I’m slowly regaining my abdominal strength, thanks to doing the boat pose with a 14-lb. weight attached to me. And Miles has the flat-on-your-back relaxation pose down pat. His cobra needs a little work, though.