No, I am not a surgically enhanced transvestite mother of two.
But I am recovering from a Cesarian.
I left the hospital eight weeks ago with a suitcase full of sanitary pads fit for an elephant in heat, disposable panties which should be illegal, some drugs, and sweet cheeks baby Dashen.
I miss my womb....
The main no-no they tell you is to avoid is lifting anything heavier then your newborn for 6 weeks, along with vacuuming. Which to me is odd. Of all the things to single out. Vacuuming? Really? Who vacuums right after childbirth?
YAY, mommy can lift me...wahoo!
- In a paper bowl.
- Which he loved.
Circling around the living room only to swing by the kitchen for a bite of food like I'm all of a sudden some sort of McDonald's Drive In. He'd run on by order up whatever it was I was serving and toss his arms in the air, laughing as he ran away, returning for another bite until it was all gone.
And as always daddy came through like a rock star with his superman hands-on support. This along with my folks who uprooted themselves for three weeks to join us in our lil' abode helped the past eight weeks feel pretty damn near painless.
I was spoiled. Costello was spoiled. Dashen... well he's a newborn. He continues to be, and rightfully so, spoiled.




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