Truth from the Trenches: I Put Cabbage in My Bra

I put cabbage in my bra.

If that doesn't get your attention, I don't know what will. Motherhood makes you do crazy things that, somehow, don't seem nearly as insane when you are in the middle of it.  Never say never, young 'ens.

Here are a few examples. 

- Cabbage in the bra.  I'm not going to go into great detail here, but allow me to say that I now know why cows bellow all night long when we wean.  It's not because they miss their calves.  It's because they hurt.  Like freaking crazy.  I read online that cabbage in the bra could help with this issue.  Therefore, I spent 3 days with soup ingredients down my shirt.  Yep.  I did it.  And I'd do it again.  (For those of you dealing with this, I can tell you a few other tricks I used to help....decongestant, peppermint oil, Motrin.  Feel free to ask questions.)

- Nose Frieda.   "You just stick one end of this in the kid's nose and the other end of it in your mouth and suck out the snot."  Um......are you kidding me?  No.  I'm not kidding.  And you'll love this contraption.  It works a million times better than the little bulb nose sucker.  There is no way that you can get the snot into your mouth, so that's at least a bit less strange.

- Just wipe it off.  I've got a reflux baby.  He spits up a lot.  ALL. THE. TIME.  At first, I would change everyone's clothes, wipe everything down, and start over.  By now, unless it's a major mess, I just wipe it off.  Spit up running all down my arm?  Probably fine.  Chunks stuck in my hair?  that might justify cleaning up a bit more.  One day, The Boy from Texas gave us a group hug before he left for work.  About 30 minutes later, he was driving down the road, reached for his phone out of his shirt pocket, only to find out that BB had spit up in his pocket during the group hug.  It was full of curdled milk.  He just wiped off the phones, cleaned out his pocket, and went about his day.

- Talk about poop.  From being a farm kid, I know you can tell alot about an animal by his or her poop.  Same is true for a baby.  I'm fairly sure that "poop" will be BB's first word.  We constantly talk about it.  Has he pooped today?  Did he have a hard time pooping?  What did the poop look like? Can you poop buddy?   It's freaking insane.  The Boy from Texas recently told me, "I've never worried about poop so much in my life."

Ah, life looks different now than I ever dreamed.  It's gross.  Strange.  Crazy.  But it's also a heck of a lot of fun.