When hunger gets the best of you, you even try to get milk out of daddy's nose!

A day in the park...

Lady Kaya in Red. Where's her Ferrari?

WEEK 6

The KayaCAM
Kaya has taken to sleeping with her left eye open, it's as if she is watching me, watching me to make sure that I don't leave the room, as I have been the minute both her eyes are closed. I have things to do, I can't always rub her belly and bounce her chair throughout her entire nap; I am trying to regain control back of some hours of my life. After all, I am bigger, older, smarter, can speak and wipe my own bum, I should be dictating around here, I am the queen of the house…or NOT! I have waved the white flag, she wins, she is in charge of everything, it’s those absolutely adorable facial expressions she makes and those little sounds when she’s trying to focus her eyes without avail. But, this one eye open thing is starting to freak me out. I tried lightly keeping my finger on it so it would stay closed, you know, how your mother always told you that if you kept making faces like that, your face was going to stay that way. Well let me tell you that was an old wives tales, given that I'm sitting here under the KayaCAM, typing with one hand.

A new use for the microwave
Do you ever notice that in a crisis situation (not of global proportions, but of the mommy variety) that your creativity peaks? Well, I don't want to brag, but I'd like to pat myself on the back for this one: The week started off with a tiny glitch, there was a note posted on the front door of the building informing us residents that we wouldn't have hot water for the next week - this is the part where I was hoping that my German had gotten worse and that I missread the announcement, which was hopefully something about the water pressure in the garden hose, or that the rain gutters on the roof needed to be replaced. But my fantasies were shattered when Stefan came home a few minutes later and said, without a hint of panic or distres in his voice, that according to a printout downstairs we were going to be sans hot water for the next 5 days. AHHHHHHHH, how should I engage my secret weapon, the hot bath before bedtime, to warm Kaya's body into slumber. Oh no, I started picturing the battlefield on the diaper changing table, COLD cloth in hand trying to clean her bum. The hot cloth was my ally, my saviour. Right, this is where my creative solution comes into play - MIELE, the microwave finally has a purpose. Wet the cloth and throw it in for a few seconds and voila a nice warm cloth, one that has even convinced Kaya that a new nappy has some benefits.

Bachelor Weekend
This is my first weekend alone with the I-sleep-with-one-eye-open-to watch-you monster, I'm a bit nervous. Can I handle it? Of course I can, I am a strong, independent woman, but who should change the afternoon smelly-poopy diaper? The one with the alien poo, not from another planet, but the one that always seems to illegally skip the pamper borders on all sides nonetheless. Yucko! Stefan has gone away for the weekend with a bunch of guy friends to have a 48 hour bachelor party - a friend of ours is getting married next weekend. He sent me one of those drunken text messages at 5am, you know those of the sappy variety: I love you, I miss my two princesses, you girls are the best things that have ever happened to me, I love you, I miss you, hugs and kisses. The ones that are reacted to with, huh...what...I wrote that, I don't remember, as he tries to remain the tough man of the house. When my cell beeped with the text message, you wonder what I was doing? Sleeping? Duh...for all those other mothers out there all together now, of course BREAST FEEDING! In that moment as my phone made that single-toned beep, I wanted to scream, pull Kaya off, and sleep for the next 10 days. If I had a weekend away I would definitely duck tape one of those eye masks to my face, ear plugs to my outer ears, shut the blinds, put the do not disturb sign up and sleep for 40 hours only waking to get a massage and eat a mongo piece of chocolate cake. But then, I stared down at the feeder attached to my left nipple and thought nah, that can all wait 18 years, this is somehow wonderful and sweet.

Question of the week: Duck tape and pacifiers
So if a baby doesn't know what's good for her, what calms her down and keeps her at peace, is it wrong to duck tape that piece, the pacifier, to her head? I mean come on, she's bound to diapers 24/7, what's the difference, besides the choking hazard?

Weekly note to self: When breast feeding at someone else's place remember to re-attach bra cups and not leave breast pads lying yround on their couch. Also when having people over, put the randomly scattered breast pads away.

WEEK 5

I'm keeping my fingers crosssed that the 8 minutes (an eternity in baby nap time) it takes me to turn on the computer and log onto my user isn't the only time I have to actually put words on the screen. I keep my ears peeled for that little sqeaky noise Kaya makes before she wails for my boob. Just when I think I hear it, noooooooooooo, yeah it was the twirp upstairs. I'm typing on borrowed time, the 3 hours since she last fed (aka: since I last tried to stuff her to sleep with 120 ml of milk is quickly nearing an end). I think she has an egg timer in that little belly of hers that goes off every 3 hours except for when I drown the mechanism by giving her a bath and then we get a whole 4 hours! I love that waterproof electronincs haven't entered the market yet.

Went to the doctor's yesterday for the standard 4 week checkup and after struggling on and off all forms of Vienese public transport with a stroller, we got to the front door of the practice and guess what, another 2 steps, I almost turned round and walked home. After a goonie-type adventure reaching her place I'm completely sweaty and already hate her. I had manage to squeeze in a shower this morning to look presentable for our big outing which I almost pulled off, until half way through the journey I reallized that I had a huge milk stain, over my left nipple, on my white shirt. No, for those of you that are novices in the milkstain department, they aren't white or clear, but a nasty kind of faint puke yellow. Sitting in the waiting room, where Stefan is of course the only man, obviously a rare specimen in a pedriatricians office in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon; even the receptionist rubs her eyes like she's seen a ghost when he goes up to register Kaya. For those of you that can't remeber your last trip to the baby doctor: in a GP's office where there are normally mounds of outdated magazines to keep patients busy, in this office there aren't any except for this year's copy of Good Parenting ( and who wants to leaf through that and feel embarassed about their meagre skills? Not I!). Instead, patients are kept busy by the boob while the mothers (the milk machines) give each other that how-much-can-this-tiny-one-actually-suck-out-of-me stare. Proud to say that I won that contest yesterday, only to find out (by the doctor with the steps in front of her office that I already hate) that Kaya is using my boobs as part feeding device and part pacifier - I have now been told to monitor that and reduce her feeding time to max a half hour. Huh? I thought that falling asleep, nipple-in-mouth for over an hour was a form of feeding?!

Alright, I'm now getting hungry, so I slowly pushed the chair back, pause, stand up and the floor creaks, pause, left foot right foot, pause, glance in the hall mirror, did I actually mean to fix my hair like that - on purpose, pause, make a run for the kitchen, enter the doorway, pause, I made it, no squeaky noise...crap the garbage truck, the open window - can't make it back fast enough.SQUEAK...here it comes...WAIL...see you next week!

Weekly question: Does one really need to change out of one's bathrobe on a daily basis? Why isn't there an international bathrobe day or two every year? It is after all a fantastic invention - you're naked but not.

Weekly note to self: keep windows closed from 12.30-1.00pm on Thursday - garbage removal!