Living the dream

I'm officially a mommyblogger. I was going to type that while breastfeeding with one hand and eating lunch with the other, but that turned out to be just a little too ambitious so instead I'm typing it with a small baby on my lap trying to eat my elbow, which I fear means he's not done after all. I wish he'd make up his mind, because while my left breast is really getting the hang of this and hardly hurts at all, my right breast, the one he doesn't like and so is going to be a bit smaller for the next few months unless I really get into the pumping thing, makes me yelp in agony every time he latches on and is really quite uncomfortable for the whole feed.

Okay, now with the one-handed typing again. And the ouchiness.

The reason for all this eating-while-updating, well, it's mostly becase I can, because we just got the internet installed at home. And it's always on, for one low monthly rate, so I can surf in my pyjamas to my heart's content and and compare and contrast Babycenter.com and Babycentre.co.uk, and find recipies for things I won't have time to cook, and read blogs, and either post more regularly about my thrilling life at home with his lordship or, you know, not get round to doing that.

So far that's what I've learnt about the 'staying home with small infant' gig: I need to be satisfied with getting a lot less done. When he sleeps between munches there are always at least five things I could be doing, from making bread so I have something to eat for lunch tomorrow to doing pilates to cleaning the bathroom to napping when the baby naps like I'm supposed to. Sometimes it turns out that the best thing to do is just leave him flaked out on my lap and watch the food network or think about painting my toenails.