Mom's Quiche

 

1 ready made, pie crust

2 ½ cups of “fixings”, chopped (you choose):

Asparagus

Bacon

Broccoli

Dill

Green Pepper

Ham

Mushrooms

Onions

Red Pepper

Salmon

Sausage

Scallions

Spinach

Tomatoes (make sure to remove the squishy center)

4 eggs

½ cup of milk

1½ cups of shredded Cheddar, Swiss, or Pepper jack cheese

Salt & black pepper to taste

           

            First off, I have to say that my mother-in-law is a damn good cook.  I aspire to be as good of an at-home cook as her and often wonder how this petite little woman manages to do it.  At just shy of five feet tall she shares a closer resemblance to “Taz” the Tasmanian Devil spinning her way around the kitchen than an actual mom but she is just that…a mom.  With a glass of red wine in her right hand and the remaining bottle in her left she effortlessly manages to cook and entertain for some very incredible parties, some of which have exceeded a hundred people.  I figure cooking for four kids, three of which were strapping young lads, had to play some part in her culinary training. 

When she taught me how to make this easy recipe I don’t think I knew then what a staple this quiche would become in our home.  There are days when having a meal on the table feels like a chore, even for me, someone who truly enjoys cooking.  I now stock up on pie crusts as I have found this to be a budget friendly meal option for my fam, and after a once over of the fridge those sneaky leftovers seem no longer blasé.  Add a side of fresh fruit to make your "brinner" a healthy hit.  Typically when thinking of quiche, I picture a fancy luncheon with ladies in ridiculously oversized spring hats and dainty white gloves but I assure you nothing fancy like that happens in my home.  Maybe a few hat days due to bad hair and I have been known to don a sexy pair of cleaning mitts but whatever the wardrobe, I have indeed managed to perfect an array of this fancy pie and have served it for just about every occasion.

Before you can begin assembling your fancy new quiche you will need to first thaw your frozen pie crust.  In a bowl, toss together your cheese and your choice of chopped fixings and then fill the pie crust.  In a separate bowl whisk together the eggs and the milk and after you have added the fixings to the pie crust pour the egg/milk combination slowly over the top.  Salt and pepper to taste and bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes to an hour.    

              With mom-in-law’s support and permission I shall not selfishly keep her recipes just for my kitchen.  This recipe of hers is just one of many fantastically edible contributions.  Turns out Mom’s Quiche isn’t just titled that because it’s my moms, it’s titled that because it is for us…Moms. 

Nottingham Potatoes

2 lbs. small red potatoes

2 cans of beef or chicken broth

                       You can also use bouillon cubes

¼ tsp. of white pepper

&

A mallet...of some sort!

This recipe belongs to my British father.  Obviously it's a Brit recipe, hence the “Nottingham” title and just in case the flag didn’t tip you off.  He is originally from England but he titled this recipe after a pub stop he made in Nottingham while there on an extended layover.  My father is a retired pilot but in his glory days, which have never actually ended, he traveled to some very interesting places and experienced some fascinating cuisine.  He is a lavish story teller and quite possibly Austin Powers’ stunt double yet he is a brilliant and quirky fellow that never manages to say anything uninteresting.  When he stumbled upon this recipe he ended up with more than just an acquired taste for warm beer but a pub crawler’s potato recipe worth more in flavor than the cost of a few measly pints.  He always manages to do his best work after a pint, or two.     

Now I am not trying to fool you into believing that this recipe is fascinating or “cuisine” but it does do the trick when it comes to searching for a delicious, cheap and easy side dish.  Regardless of how absurd  the method used to make this recipe may seem, it is quite good.  Unfortunately, the exercise you will get from cracking open the potatoes is pretty minimal so you will need to find another way to burn off some extra calories and rid yourself of that stubborn Preggers 15. 

When I asked my father what you should use to crack the potatoes open he said, “use a rolling pin”.  Honestly, who has a rolling pin anymore?  Obviously that comment in itself ages this recipe.  "It's donkey's years old" he confirms, apparently referring to how old the recipe is in comparison to how long a donkey lives.  So when I asked him what was the next best thing to use he said, “the back end of a wine bottle”.  I did mention that he was quirky right?  That is a dreadful suggestion!  So please, for heaven’s sake, do not use the back end of a wine bottle.  This tip may have been lost in translation after a few of those pints. 

I use the back side of my can opener.  It is amazing the extra use you can get out of ordinary kitchen utensils.  Not to mention the release of any pent up anger and frustration you get by cracking these little taters open.  They don’t need to be smashed just a little crack to allow the broth flavor to seep inside.  Once cracked, dump the potatoes into a pot on the stove, pour the broth over the top and add your seasoning.  Most canned broths or bouillon cubes are just loaded with salt so skip adding any additional salt to this dish.  Just boil the potatoes until they can be easily pierced with a fork or knife.  Cheers Mum, now go and have yourself a pint.

Days in a Daze

            As a brand new SAHM you will inevitably have some days that are unlike other days.  These “some” days that I am referring to are the Dark Days.  Let’s face it, not everyday is going to be peaches and cream.  Some people may tell you otherwise but as I told you in the beginning, I am going to tell you the truth.  Most days are joyous, the days when you can’t wait for you little one to wake so you can spend time with him or her but the other days, the dark ones…

After awhile of being in the new at-home role, just about every SAHM will ask, “What day is it today?”  Sometimes I have even managed to miss two days… “What do you mean it’s Wednesday?”  The days whiz by so fast that you can’t seem to grasp a hold of them.

            I remember when I was working at a full-time job the idea of a day just flying by was something I’d wish for, almost as hard as a kid wishing for a snow day.  But this new full-time job of being a mommy, housekeeper, CFO, accountant, chef, and

sex goddess (ha, I just through that last one in to see if you were paying attention) is by far the hardest job I have ever had.  And believe me when I tell you that I have worked for the hardest bosses ever and I even have worked with felons.  But those jobs were still easier than handling the onslaught of duties of being a SAHM. 

In the realm of mommy-hood a day that whizzes past can leave you feeling a bit unsettled.  You frantically try to recall the days events just to determine where exactly  the time went and some days you may have just struggled with your little offspring so much so that you are ready to throw in the towel, call a do-over on the day and beg Father Time to make it just end.  Your husband will barely be able to make it in the door as you leap on him like a cheetah begging for him to take over.  You inform him that your child has turned into the devil and is unruly and defiant.  Of course as you are saying this your baby sits sweetly in his highchair saying, “DADA” mockingly. 

Dark days are the ones that by the time you manage to get a hold of the day you realize that you haven’t even stopped for a minute to brush your hair, the sweater that you are wearing is actually on your teeth, and the clothes you have on are probably better off being burned.  Don’t judge me; mommies everywhere know that this actually happens.  I may have fooled you into thinking that I was some hot, multi-talented domestic diva but alas, I am not.  This is confirmed by looking down and seeing my Happy Hanukkah socks.  It’s laundry day, that’s my story and I am sticking to it!

            During these days a glance at the clock, 3pm, reminds you that you only have a short time until the hubs arrives home and will be anticipating a meal.  A day where you have to stop and ask yourself, “When exactly WAS the last time I showered?”  It can be a delicate balancing act trying to get in some “me” time.  If you choose to shower you may forgo lunch.  One glance in the mirror unveils the paleness of your cheeks and sun-touched highlights that obviously came from a box. 

No matter how many times you pull out the nail clippers to trim your little ones nails you still don’t take the five minutes needed to trim your own.  This of course can lead to unnecessary accidents.  Unfortunately, this was the case for me one afternoon when I was changing Gavin’s diaper.  I was attempting to add diaper cream as he was excitedly kicking around and I must have accidentally scratched his little bean bag.  Poor little guy let out a yelp.  I don’t understand why in a newborn care class they have you practice putting a diaper on a baby that is laying still.  It’s a huge faux pas if you ask me, no baby lays still for a diaper change.  Anyway, I spent the remainder of the day applying an antibacterial ointment to his baby parts.  So take a few minutes to clip your dagger nails.  It may prevent Mommy Scissorhands from adding more trouble to an already dark day.

It is during a dark day that you will log the hardest hours of baby care.  It is in that final, desperate attempt to get your child down for his nap that you suddenly see yourself back at your old full-time job.  In your head the questions start piling:

When was the last time he was fed?

When was the last time he was changed?

How long was his last nap?

Does he feel hot?

Is he too cold?

Is it too early for a cocktail?

You will rock your baby for what seems like a lifetime trying to get him to sleep and in the end, defeated; you will place him in the crib and take a few minutes to walk away.  These days make you think that you will never have the chance to leave the house again or confirm that you may not want to for fear of experiencing any of this madness in public.  Dark days always end with one of two things, a drink or a pill. 

For those friends that randomly decide to pop over to my house and see me with my hair tied up in a knot and still in my pajamas, I may very well just be in the midst of a dark day struggle so don't judge me, but next time could you pick up a burger on your way over? 

Pulled Pork Sandwiches

3 lbs. boneless, pork loin roast

1 can (15oz) of tomato sauce

1/3 cup of apple cider vinegar

½ cup of brown sugar

1 tbsp. black pepper

½ tsp. cayenne pepper

A package of buns (“mommy brain” reminder)

            
           This is probably one of the easiest recipes to make and by using your trusty crock-pot it is almost effortless.  First things first, take your roast and place it fat side facing up in the crock-pot.  Placing it fat side up allows the flavors to run through the meat while it is cooking and also keeps it extra juicy.  Add two cups of water and put the lid on.  Turn it on low and let it cook for 8-10 hours.    

I prefer to cook the meat overnight after all, 8-10 hours is a long time to wait.  So if you choose to take this route just pop the meat in the pot before you head off to bed.  I named my meat Fabio, seeing as it is not quite lady like to have a large hunky piece of meat spend the night with out knowing his name.  Be forewarned that by morning you may find yourself awakened by the ferocious growl of something unearthly, a hunger yet to be experienced by most.       

           

Good morning mama, how’d you sleep?  I bet you were so curious to see what was going on with Fabio that you ran right to the kitchen to check.  To get started, take your roast out of the crock-pot and set it upside down on a surface to cool.  This piece of meat needs to cool completely before you can begin to man handle it.  Once the pork is cool to the touch you can shred it with a fork or begin pulling it apart by hand.  It may appear to be a daunting task but you will be pleasantly surprised at just how easy and fast you will have this done.  Make sure your kiddo is happy and content because once you start shredding you are going to want to finish the job.  This may be a good time to have babysitter Einstein come and pay a visit, truly the most reliable in-home house sitter I know. 

Pour the remaining water out of the crock-pot and once all of the meat has been shredded return it to the pot.  Mix in the additional ingredients listed above and turn it back on low and let it cook for 2-3 hours.  Serve these man-wiches up quick before your husband gnaws his own arm off or he finds out about your little tryst.  I bet you will be having this house guest back for an overnight!

Getting...Back to Sleep

The best time to start to prepare your dinner is when your baby is napping, that is of course if you are fortunate enough to get your baby down for his or her nap.  Otherwise, you can drag that oversized baby swing right into your kitchen.  Don’t place it next to the hot stove or where you will be cutting and peeling onions and garlic, and don’t let your baby play with any knives.  Your baby should just enjoy watching you, although your kitchen won’t sound like the set of a typical Rachel Ray show.  Emanating from your kitchen will hopefully be the sounds of a happily coo-ing newborn.   I serenaded Gavin with the Alphabet song so many times that I came to the realization that Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and the Alphabet are the same melody.  Nothing changed as baby Gavin grew to actual babble stage except the swing got larger, and I finally had done my parental due diligence and learned a few actual nursery rhymes.    

Napping is by far the hardest thing to accomplish as a FTM.  If you are one of those crazy people out there that thinks that having a schedule for your baby is a ridiculous notion then…well, you are ridiculous.  Schedules and routines are very important for a child.  Even from an early age they have the ability to learn confidence and trust.  They can anticipate what is coming next and get adjusted to what is familiar.  Fall off of a schedule and things can very quickly be set on a course for disaster.  It can take days to get things back to normal, what ever your household “normal” may be.

My son is a tummy sleeper.  Right now, just about every Back to Sleep program advocate is preparing their posters to picket outside of my home.  And, just in case you were wondering, no I am not some rebellious mom who just happened to decide that defying the recommendations of every doctor and nurse would be a good idea.  My son made that decision all on his own. 

For five and a half weeks my son slept in our bed and on my chest.  I thought for sure I would sleep in a sitting position for the rest of my life.  The sad part was that I truly thought that he just needed me and that he could not bear to be away from me.  You would feel the same way too if you really knew me. 

Then one day my husband (aka “The Genius”), set up blankets and pillows in a slant on our couch and placed our baby on his tummy.  “You’re putting him on his tummy?” I shrieked.  See I told you, "they" had me too.  What did my son do?  He fell right to sleep and stayed that way for two hours.  So we decided to set up the bassinet in our bedroom the same way and he slept the entire night inside of it.  How do I know this?  Because out of utter fear I watched him sleep and I held a baseball bat just in case those “picketers” made their way in.

This is what worked for us, for mommy, daddy and baby.  Now I am in no way encouraging you to make your baby sleep on their tummy, I am simply speaking from my own experience.  Yes I agree that putting a baby to sleep on their back is the preferred method but in my case he preferred his own method and I preferred sleep.

At seven weeks and five days my husband moved our little one from his bassinet into his own room and set him in his crib.  He had configured the crib the same way as the bassinet.  For baby Gavin’s first time sleeping in his crib he slept through the entire night.  To this day, almost fourteen months later, he still sleeps on his belly and I still sleep with one eye open.  I have the monitor volume turned up so high that I can practically hear the springs in the mattress if he moves.  Its okay to get some cuddle time in with your little one but if you really feel like a cuddle go snuggle up with your husband because God knows he feels neglected.

Oven Roasted Broccoli

1-2 lbs. of broccoli crowns

2 cloves of garlic, diced

2 tbsp. olive oil

¼ tsp. red pepper flakes

Pinch of cayenne pepper

Pinch of salt

I guarantee you that you can complete this recipe and have it in the oven baking before your baby drops his or her pacifier on the floor.  However, if your baby is like mine than unfortunately you are excluded from this guarantee because mine has already managed to drop his twice and I haven’t even finished this sentence. 

It is amazing how particular young babies can be and at such an early age.  Some enjoy the solace that a pacifier provides while others need a lesson or two on how to keep the darn thing in their mouth.  “The Plug” as it is most commonly referred to can be a lifesaver in the middle of a crowded Target store.  It can also lead to a small panic attack if it happens to fall to the floor and you are without a pacifier wipe (yes, there is such a thing), or a sink to rinse the germs away.  I bet you would never have imagined that such a tiny baby item could cause you such frustration yet also such peace.  The pacifier clip is a genius invention.  The clip attaches to almost anything and when your little one decides that he or she is no longer in need of soothing it just dangles freely until the need arises again.    Tuck a plug in every bag, every pocket and every purse.  Store one in all corners of your home and have many backups available.

Trim the bottoms of the broccoli crowns to remove the exposed part of the stem.  Then cut the little trees vertically so they multiply into more little trees.  Lay them out on a baking sheet and pour the olive oil directly on top of them.  No measuring here, just pour the oil directly from the bottle.  Sprinkle your diced garlic and the remaining spices over the top of the broccoli spears and place the baking sheet in the oven for 15 minutes at 400 degrees.   Now eat your vegetables and then go and buy the Genius Garlic Cutter because it is truly amazing, easy to use, and also extremely cheap.  It makes dicing garlic cloves a cinch and your hands won’t smell like poo…well, any more than they already do.

Guacamole

2 large ripe avocados
1 tsp. lemon juice

¼ of a small red onion, chopped

1 tbsp. of salsa or

½ of a fresh tomato, chopped

Splash of hot sauce

Pinch of cayenne pepper

Pinch of garlic powder

Salt & black pepper to taste

1 tsp. of ranch dressing (optional)

& if you like it HOT! HOT! HOT!

½ of a jalapeno, diced (The seeds and veins in the jalapeno are actually what make this pepper hot.  The smaller and darker the pepper the hotter it can be.)

           

            Holy Guacamole!  I am certain that guacamole is a staple at any football party.  Or it may just be a staple in your household due to exposing Cletus the fetus to the exotic flavors of Spanish food via a very exclusive and trendy restaurant known as Taco Bell.  This could very well explain why I gained so much weight during my pregnancy.  Anyone who saw me thought I was the next Octo-Mom.  Either way, this easy, no fuss version is sure to leave your guests of all ages begging for more. 

Let’s see if you can handle this, put everything listed above in a bowl and mash it together.  So easy to make, your baby could do it.  In truth, I always mash the avocados first then I add everything else.  You should plan on refrigerating the dip for at least 10 minutes so that the flavors have the opportunity to blend together, that is if you can manage to wait that long.  Add chips and serve.  This amazing nibble was taught to me by a talented Puerto Rican chef named Jesus.  Sometimes he adds a ¼ cup of canned corn (drained) for color and texture. 

If I could make a small recommendation, get your chip loaded up first because once you start fighting your own mother for the guac because she “Never gets to eat it as often as everyone else does”, and she proceeds to load her chip up with unfair amounts of this delectable treat, you are liable to not get any of it at all.  Your husband will be all too pleased to lick the bowl clean.  Another recipe complete and the dishes are done!

You want the tooth? You can't handle the tooth!

           When exactly did those teeth arrive…around tooth-thirty?  I am not sure what had prompted me to look into my son’s mouth and begin searching his little gum line, I’m not a dentist.  I normally just pop the bottle in and then begin daydreaming as he guzzles away.  Only mothers can fall into such deep trances as they gaze at every detail of their little one’s face.  I typically give him a good once over while he lays cuddled in my arms but this time my eyes zoomed directly in at his gum line where I caught a tiny glimpse of white.  There they were, both of them.  Two bottom teeth were perfectly positioned and pushing their way through his tiny gum line.  I shouted for my husband to quickly come and take a look.  As if the teeth would quickly retreat back into the gums now that their whereabouts were known.  My son, at three and a half months old had teeth!  I guess not being able to breastfeed had turned out to be a blessing in disguise.  Now that these piranha teeth had emerged I was literally thanking my lucky stars, both of them.   

            My husband and I high fived and congratulated one another.  We were pretty darn impressed with how well we were both doing as parents.  We were raising such a well mannered child.  We both couldn’t believe that unbeknownst to us these two tiny teeth had arrived and so peacefully at that.  Our son could really have cared less that these two foreigners had taken up camp.  Besides the drool and the constant gnawing of his hands he had been pretty well behaved.  You would have thought that the drooling and gnawing on his extremities would have been odd enough to alert us of something but those are pretty normal traits in our household around feeding time. 

We all hear of the horror stories associated with teething.  The fevers, diaper rashes, diarrhea, crankiness, lack of sleep and over all terror that parents spend the first twelve months of their baby’s life nervously dreading but there wasn’t any of that.  Until he realized that we knew what was going on and then it became hell.

            My quiet night sleeper was now waking up in the middle of the night.  When I would try to offer him his bottle he would just begin ferociously gnawing on it like a rabid dog on a bone.  No magical gel, wash rag or teether gave our little boy any relief.  Nothing in our house was safe.  Everything and anything he put in his mouth.  A word to the wise, don’t stick your finger in there because It bites!

Once the teeth had made it about a quarter of the way up there was just constant drool and persistent tongue thrusting as he felt his way around the new chiclets in his mouth.  His eyes would peer up at me as if to say, “Ma, did you put these here while I was napping?" or more explicitly, “Ma, could you put down the whisky bottle and help me?"  Urban Legend states that smearing whisky or brandy on the gums can give some relief.  I started doing just that and I didn’t feel a whole lot better.  Oh right, they meant on the baby’s gums.  I didn’t actually take the opportunity to try this method out on baby Gavin’s gums not because I didn’t think that this would work, after all that is what my parents did to sooth my teething woes.  I didn’t try it because wasting any amount of whisky in our household is considered a sin. 

             The Tooth Fairy is the devil.  Well not the “devil” per se, but an angry two-faced, backstabbing fairy.  Don’t for even a second think that SHE doesn’t know exactly what she is doing to us parents.  This fairy isn’t responsible for just the collection of the old teeth but also for the distribution of the new teeth.  Just when you think that there is little more that you can handle she mysteriously has another tooth appear.  Seriously fairy, if the teeth need to come in why not all at once?  When I find her, I am not going to thank her for giving my son his cheerio grinders; I am going to kick her ass.

Honey-Mustard Chicken

4 skinless, boneless chicken breasts
¼ cup of Dijon mustard
1/3 cup honey
1 tbsp. of fresh dill
1 tsp. curry powder
1 tbsp. of orange marmalade
1 tbsp. of butter or margarine
½ tsp. salt
½ tsp. black pepper

           
            To start you will want to give your chicken breasts a quick rinse.  Then pat them dry and place them in an ungreased baking dish.  Use a fork to puncture a few holes into each breast. 

I choose to trim the excess fat from the edges of the chicken.  That little extra bit on the edges seems to remind me of the extra bit I still have dangling on my edges.  I would really like to trim that off too.  I considered doing just that but after a once over of the kitchen scissors I realized that doing so would probably be more painful than the birth itself. 

During my pregnancy, public television taunted me through its' advertisements.  The tacos, cheeseburgers n’ fries, pizzas, sandwiches, and steaks, have you ever actually realized how many food related commercials there are on TV?  At one point the Sunny Delight commercial almost had me.  Those kids playing in the sunshine chugging the Sunny D, just watching it made me feel as though I had been in the desert for months.  The ad actually made me feel dehydrated. 

 Now of course I am paying for it.  I had to literally buy new clothes because my pre-preggers wardrobe is too small, all of my cute outfits hanging there mocking me.  I of course had to succumb to the fact that I wasn’t going to just bounce back after giving birth.  Maybe the celeb moms featured in US Weekly can but in reality that just isn’t the case.  Oh, and if you are one of those moms who did…I hate you and you’re a bitch.   

Obviously I needed to purchase just a few things to get me by until I realized that I no longer had an excuse to stuff my face and that working out was actually a good idea.  Also, my husband kicked me out of wearing his jeans.  He actually said to me, “Hey, you can’t wear these anymore, these are my favorite pair.”  The nerve of him, right?  So I managed to eat my way out of an entire wardrobe which has left me broke and with nothing but this post baby bod…oh and my beautiful son of course.  If you are lucky like me then you may have a truly amazing gal pal that has extremely great taste but fortunately can’t fit into her jeans either.  Now you are the proud owner of four pairs of gently used designer jeans that you practically choose to sleep in. 

Oh yeah, the Honey-Mustard Chicken…in a glass measuring cup, melt the butter or margarine and pour it into a mixing bowl with all of the remaining ingredients.  If you choose to measure out this recipe, which I typically ban, then immediately after you have poured the butter or margarine into the mixing bowl use the measuring cup to measure your honey.  The butter on the sides of the cup will prevent the honey from sticking.  This little tip may save you a little bit of cooking aggravation.    

Now pour the finished glaze over the chicken breasts and just let it marinate until you are ready to pop it into the oven.  It bakes for roughly 25-35 minutes at 400 degrees depending on the size of your breasts.  Now wipe the sweat from your brow and tell your hubby your back is aching from a hellacious day with the baby.  Bon Appetit!

A Class-y Approach to Parenthood

        
           What is it about the amazing adventure of motherhood that makes a woman set her sites on being the best?  I wasn’t a very good student when I was in school but the instant I found out that I was going to become a mom something in me changed. 

I am certain that this is true for a lot of FTMs.  At this point in your life you want to become more educated then ever and you are willing to learn from every expert and even every novice.  You will spend time daydreaming about your own childhood and the things that you loved and the things that you absolutely hated vowing to not have history repeat itself.  Another motivator for getting your learn on is the nagging thought of the pain to be incurred.  The thought of birthing a human being invokes such fear, initially; that you kind of want to read up on anything you can get your hands on.  Some couples choose to take educational classes to help ease their transition into parenthood. 

My husband and I chose the class route.  We took two classes, Newborn Care and Breastfeeding.  The idea of taking a birthing class and watching a video of an actual birth somehow just didn’t seem right to me.  Not to mention that to me ignorance was bliss.  I didn’t want to know the details of how the birth was going to happen because I already knew that it was going to happen and there was no turning back.  Besides, can anything actually prepare you for the birth?  Nothing can except maybe the epidural cocktail that is pumped into your spine.

            My husband is a comedian.  He thinks that he is so funny and he hardly takes anything serious.  I guess it is safe to say that the overall birthing process and lifelong parenting isn’t going to change him either. 

He walked into the class and I waddled in after him.  He was on a mission to find the best seat.  He chose one closest to the door.  I suppose just in case he had to make an emergency break for it.  He chose a baby for us to practice parenting with and of course he picked one that looked the farthest from either one of us.  It wasn’t that I expected to walk into the class and find a plastic baby that looked just like me but I did want the class to be as realistic as possible.  After all, this would be the first baby that I had held since my first childhood dolly.  A dolly that I soon became bored with and dressed up our family dog instead. 

 I remember taking a good look around the room.  It was an odd bunch of people to say the least.  A bizarre thought flashed through my mind.  “How did some of these people manage to procreate?"  Hoping my son would not end up marrying any of their daughters I re-focused my attention at the instructor standing at the front.  Of course all of the soon to be mothers were sitting straight up in their chairs and taking detailed notes while the husbands had that oh too familiar glazed and impatient look in their eyes.  I turned to my husband, “Are you enjoying the class?”  His response, “It’s 6:30.”
To be honest I thought that our Newborn Care class was just okay.  It taught couples how to diaper a baby, how to give it a bath, how to change its’ clothes, how to burp a baby…blah blah blah.  Teach me how to make it stop screaming and crying and how to make it sleep through the night that’s what couples really want to know.

            Regardless of the amount of parenting fundamentals learned from a class any FTM knows that the minute you bring your new bundle of joy home all of that extra training goes out the window.  You just start winging it and you learn very quickly what works and definitely what doesn’t work.  You might put the diaper on backwards a dozen or so times or get peed on or go into a shitty gunfight with only a single wet wipe as your weapon.  A few times I even had to talk myself into pulling the little onesie over his head.  But the amazing thing about this experience is that you never manage to go it alone.  Your husband or partner, family and friends are there to bear witness of your foolishness and share those memories with you to this day while still chuckling. 
           

The Breastfeeding class was a tad more interesting.  The mothers sat shyly in their seats looking down at their pad of notes now covering them in doodles while secretly checking out the competition of the soon to be food accessories of the other mothers.  Meanwhile the husbands sat alert and intently focused on the Texas made production video.  Why is it that Texans have an insatiable need to make things so GIANT?   The husbands also were secretly checking out the barrage of food sources in the room.  
When making the decision to breast feed most soon to be mothers go into the process with the breast of intentions.  We secretly wonder when it comes to breastfeeding, does size really matter?  I’m going to be honest with you mom, size does not matter.  So don’t for one minute boast about your size D capability because even D’s can end up having trouble.  And don’t frown mom if you happen to be petite in the ski slope area because A’s can get an A+ in breastfeeding.  Sadly, no one discusses with you that nature itself can make this decision for you.  After all of the classes, the books and anticipation I ended up being a milk dud.  With the help of a magical pump I was able to offer my goods to my little one.  This in itself was no easy task because even then...I sucked.  One day I pumped all day to gather three ounces and as I hurriedly prepared my little one for his feast I accidentally knocked the cup over.  I went absolutely delirious, hysterical, I was on the verge of an utter breakdown.  Talk about crying over spilt milk.

            If milk production isn’t your issue than maybe it is getting your baby to latch.  I vaguely remember an hour or so after Gavin’s birth I was being swarmed by the hands of an army of nurses.  Talk about nursing your baby.  There was so much tugging, squeezing and yanking that it left me feeling as though I worked in a brothel.  After a woman gives birth modesty sure as hell goes out the window. 

It really doesn’t matter what state your breasts are in because even in their moon-sized nipple glory your man’s fascination is still strong.  We all expected our boobs to double in size but the nipples too?  Really nature, was that necessary?  Houston we have a problem!  When it comes to breastfeeding your husband may act squeamish but the truth is he is more interested than ever.  The conversation will start by him timidly asking you, “Do you think I could try it?"  If you haven’t been asked by your husband yet you sure will and don’t say I didn’t warn you girlfriend.