Tim Gunn knows bras. I was watching his show, Guide To Style, the other night when he said something that struck me as totally obvious, yet kind of unrealistic. He said, “Every woman should get a bra fitting. It should be a Rite of Passage.” Yes, clearly, it should be similar to The Sex Talk or The Period Talk that everyone must uncomfortably sit through while their parents jabber on about Birds and Bees. At least, that’s what I imagine it must be like seeing as I’ve never sat through a Sex Talk or Period Talk. I’m guessing my mother felt it unnecessary what with me being a gawky sort of girl.

How fitting (Ha! See the pun I just did there? Sheer writing brilliance!) then that I got pregnant before I was maried. What I learned about Sex came straight from those sordid tales on the playground and during Serious Talks with my girlfriends. “So what was it like? How do you kiss anyway?” “I dunno. It was slimy!” Ahh, yes, slimy! How very informational! Likewise, never having been fitted for a bra then, I’m not exactly sure of my size. I can guess, however, starting somewhere with what the plastic surgeon said was a C. Although I pretty much just guessed at the number. I never did understand that number, but I have used it as a marker for weight. Doing okay if 32 or below! Time to diet if 34! Get ready to starve at 36 or above! Like I even knew what I was talking about. P-shaw!

Oh, yeah: I had a breast reduction when I was 19. He took me down to a C, I guess. I have my doubts that I really am, or the placement of my nipples is entirely off. I know he was going for perky, but this is ridiculous. Every single bra I try on my nipples poke out the top like little Killroys peeking over the wall. I’ve been told by knowledgeable friends not to wear Demi Cup bras. I don’t. Those would be so wildly unflattering it would be like trying to harness the power of the wind with a hanky. It just. doesn’t. work.

I tried Sports Bras for a while there and they seemed to work. The girls were supported well and the material covered every part of my breast. It’s just that they worked so well, I ended up with a Uni-Boob. Have you ever had one? It’s much like the Uni-Brow, but much more, um, sweaty. There’s no breeze in the valley! Thus, they were relegated to the back of the lingerie drawer. Calling a Sports Bra lingerie is much like calling a Gremlin a quality automobile. It doesn’t quite fit.

Then I found Nursing Bras. Since I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to bear my boobs to someone outside of my family for measurement (I just can’t take the scrutiny), I’m so, so, so glad I found the Nursing Bra. It holds these Baby Feeders in it’s firm, yet gentle grip and cradles them, like, I don’t know, a mother to her breast. (There’s a whole lot of Boob Talk on this here blawg. I really must attract the Quality Clientele.) They provide easy access all while being fairly pretty and they cover the nips! Fantastic! Hopefully, I’ll man up in the next little bit and be able to be fitted for a real bra. Until then, I’ll stick with my Nursing Bra. I can tell the lacy black one is special because the baby gets excited when he sees it. Mrawr.

This Halloween was officially Too Much Fun. At the end of September, I started decorating the house. Along the way, I discovered a horrible mouse infestation.

I didn’t bother calling the exterminator. I thought the mice only added to the spookiness of the holiday.

A scary black cat moved into our house.

I carved the most kick ass pumpkin. It was a Mouse Hotel complete with holes in which there were mice propped going in and out. I’d love to show it to you, but I waited too long to take the picture and the damn thing rotted last week. We had to get rid of it, but never fear! I have more pumpkins to share. Arrr, matey!

We also had a totally Punk Rock Pumpkin:

Bugsy painted a very scary Vampire Pumpkin. I painted a Piggy Pumpkin. We also had a Green Swan Pumpkin and a Baby Pumpkin for Baby Moo.

Darth Vader stopped by to hang out for awhile.

He also went Trick or Treating with us. Don’t tell him, but he really hogged all the candy.

We had a Baby Dinosaur. He sure was hungry because he was nursing on me! Crazy!

We ran into some weird clowns.

We had so much fun on a two hour hayride in which the kids trick or treated at the houses we stopped at. It was a blast.

We were even “Boo’ed!”

Which didn’t mean that nobody liked us. It just meant that some special person left a bucket of candy with a note on our doorstep for us to find. It was actually really sweet and I’m totally curious as to who did it. Hmmm, I wonder.

So, how was your holiday?

Meet Wisen, the Owl:

Wisen was the result of a two hour break that the babysitter gave me in which I hired someone to care for my child whilst I went and did something for myself. No, I did not soak in the tub for hours while reading a book. While it appeals to me on a hygienic level, I really wanted to do something with all of the creativity I have been feeling as of late. Seriously. I look around my office and in piles of fabric and I see an elegant tote bag with which I can cart around my crap. I look at the rolls of felt and I see perfect elf clogs that would be totally useles, but completely adorable. I have rolls and rolls of yarn just waiting to be made into a scarf? Comfy Socks? A mouse? A Stripey Hat?

Unfortunately, Baby Moo becomes a downright spaz if I dare place him in the swing and it’s virtually impossible to use a sewing machine while wearing a sling. Ask me how I know. I decided to call in reinforcements in the form of a sweet lady with a sing-song voice that cared for Bugs when I decided to be all Academic and go back to school. (I know! What was I thinking? I still don’t even know.) I knew that Baby Moo would take to her right away for he loves anyone with big cans a chipper attitude and she has it in spades. While Baby Moo cooed, giggled, sat up, took his first steps, and smiled, I created this:

I know! I know! Almost as cute as this, no?

Excuse the outfit. It was a present and I was trying to write a thank you note in which I included a picture of Moo wearing the gift. Usually I don’t have the energy to dress my children in outfits that require such care.

It’s my first Owlie and I didn’t have a pattern to work with, so it was completely off the cuff. I’m proud of him. He’s soft and cuddly and just the right size for tiny hands. And he likes to play. Score!

My Dear Second Born Son,
Today I spent far too much time just staring into your face and not enough time washing the dirty clothes, emptying the dishwasher, or making beds, but every time I think about how fast your older brother has grown up I am gripped with this strange choking sensation that time is getting away from me. You are getting bigger with every breath you take and while you are losing that special Tinyness that newborns have, you are developing into the chubby thighed, cuddly, giggly Baby that I love more and more with every breath I take. You don’t even have knuckles yet! There is just a dimpled impression where a knuckle should be.

This past month has been one of discovery. You have finally realized that you have feet and spend much of the time attempting to cram them into your mouth. For me, this would be a physical impossibility, but for you, it’s performed with the greatest of ease. One of your many nicknames has become Taco, for you look very much like one when putting your feet in your mouth. An extra-large Cuteness stuffed Soft Taco with a side of Refried Adorable. I can’t say your feet always smell delicious (they sweat an awful lot for baby feet), but clearly they must taste it.

Being the younger brother, you must be the one who makes the most sacrifices although I’m sure you don’t quite realize this yet. Your Saturday morning lie-in is cut short for the soccer game, naptime is taken at swim lessons, and morning nursing sessions are not the leisurely affairs they once were for we have to leave so early to get to school on time. Despite all of this, your brother’s voice and presence brings about a calmness in you that I find magical. It has become so easy to make dinner because I can just strap you in your stroller next to your brother and you are content for at least an hour. The Bug will explain the make and model of every car known to man and you just listen intently, not understanding a single word. You’re still so very young, you don’t even speak, but I can already see the love you have for your brother in your eyes.

This month Tummy Time has become an adventure, instead of a scheduled activity to help you strengthen your neck muscles. You can now easily roll from your front to your back and you are becoming quite skillful at the back to front as well. You always have such a look of surprise when complete the roll, as if you can’t quite believe you have done it. We always have much more fun when there is something interesting for you to stare at in front of you. You especially like it when I attempt to show you what crawling looks like. The other day I was trying to take a picture of a candle that I had lit and you were propped on your belly in the Boppy. You were mesmerized. The flame danced and flickered in the breeze made from the A/C, and your blue eyes lit up with wonder. It is a joy to share in new experiences with you and to watch your fascination as you seek to understand the world around you

I feel especially proud of our nursing relationship. We have fought so hard to make it work and every contented sigh you give has made it all worth it. We have formed the most amazing bond because of the time we have shared. It is something I wish I could give to every mother/child pair. You have made me realize my full potential as a mother. It was well after you’d been nursing, that I realized it was about so much more than food. It is a constant source of comfort for you, a place you snuggle into at night, a time for us to be quiet and peaceful, a moment to spend looking at one another, a gift that we give to each other. I am consistently amazed at how my body is able to provide all that you need: a heart to love you, arms to hold you, and a breast to comfort and feed you.*

It isn’t hard to make the connection that with your genes, you will be brilliant. You are already showing signs of your advanced IQ. Just the other day I left the room for a moment while you and your brother were playing. Imagine my surprise when I returned to this:

Standing! I know! And you’ve somehow tricked your brother into the dog cage and managed to lock the door behind him! I don’t know who this says more about: you, your brother, or frankly, me and my Super Genes. Okay, fine. You love you some “assisted standing,” as your Dad calls it. Since you normally hold on to my hands while attempt such daring feats, I just switched my hands for the bars of the cage and it worked. Of course, I kept my hands on you the entire time and only took them off for 0.5 seconds to snap the picture. You were totally safe and unharmed during the making of this shot.

This month you have started laughing. Really giggling because you take such delight in the moment. I love it. The best way to achieve a giggle is to nuzzle your neck while simultaneously squealing “Fu-Silly Baby!” The resulting sound is perfect deliciousness. I can’t wait to see what exciting new activity unfolds next month.

You toothless grin reminds me to savor each moment:

Your giggle is infectious:

You’re my baby boy and you’re absolutely perfect:

*We have a milk donor who helps to provide all the milk you need. She is your Milky Mommy and we are forever grateful to her.