Bringing Sexy Back

The end is in sight. Only a week or so left of pumping. The baby is almost plump enough to eat so we are no longer feeding her mother's milk. It's sort of intense. I'm down to twice a day, no longer having to pump during my actual workday. Glory glory allelujah. Because as fun as it was to find 20 extra minutes in my day in the middle of Richmond in a dimly lit grime covered captain's chair in a live truck, I really won't miss it one single tit bit.

We have almost made it to Emmy's 10 month mark, and I think we still have just enough provisions to get us through a couple more days. The debate now: do we go with our pediatrician's recommendation and transition straight to Vitamin D whole milk? Or do we listen to Parents magazine and do formula for 2 months to avoid anemia worries until she's a year old. Whoa. A YEAR OLD in TWO MONTHS? Why have I not started planning the party yet? The Good Doctor has a co-worker who owns his own Elmo suit. Those doctors and their lavish fashion tastes. And generously, he's offered to lend it to us. Emmy, meet Elmo!

But knowing her, and her extreme dislike of all things stranger and danger, it may not be the happiest of birthday parties if Daddy is nowhere to be found and some giant red monster with bug eyes keeps trying to tickle her and make her do baby boot camp drills. Ten HUT! He's convinced Emmy is lazy. I say she's smart. I never would have learned to walk either if I had The Good Doctor to carry me around all day. Zipping me here and there and twirling me around in front of mirrors and throwing me into the air like a space shuttle.

Maybe we'll wait until Emmy turns 2 for Elmo. Or maybe he'll make a guest appearance on my 32nd. Elmo wishing me a happy birthday in his Elmo voice. Some people would really be turned on by that I bet.