VIP Treatment

Just like the sci-fi TV-Series Sliders, each week I feel like I’m thrust through an inter-dimensional portal, right into a brand new world that I never new existed. Only, instead of having a remote control timer that thrusts me into different dimensions and circumstances at the end of every episode, I have a kid…and parenthood…that pushes me through that door, instead.

So, where did my portal take me this week?

To a place of such extraordinary VIP Treatment, the likes of which is usually reserved for royalty and/or astronauts? A luxurious world where privacy, space and convenience meet. A world where modesty, companionship and radiation all flow into one. The fascinating world I speak of, is…

The Baby Change Room

How weird, crazy and contradictory? The first thing to raise a curious eyebrow at, is the futuristic self-opening door. It’s like having the convenience of a Doorman at Crown Casino, compressed into a tiny button on the wall. Very convenient if you’re pushing a stroller and don’t have to back your way in to hold the door open. The next thing to hit you, is the SPACE. My god. This is no narrow washroom facility with troughs and cubicles lining the walls, where you sidestep around each other like Riverdancers, trying to hotfoot it to an empty cubicle without brushing up against some unfortunate coming the other way. This is Julie Andrews territory, spinning round on a hilltop singing, “The hills are alive, to the sound of music.”

There’s futuristic escape pods mounted in the wall for you to change your baby into, complete with seat belts. I guess, in case you accidentally hit the eject button or launch them into space. Either that, or you think your baby’s going to strain so hard to push something out, that he’s going to have to be strapped in for his own safety first? And how crazy is this? They have a microwave oven in there!! How long do they think it takes to change your baby? Certainly long enough to maybe heat up a kebab while you’re at it.

There’s even a discreet and private “lounge” area, where you can sit and feed your bub behind the privacy of a curtain. Now, here’s the contradictory part…

The toilet has a “his-n-hers” kind of feature, that’s really a “biguns-n-littluns” kind of deal. One big adult size toilet beside a smaller kiddy size toilet. So, it seems kind of weird and contradictory to me that if you have to pop a boob out to feed your baby, then you’d better pull a curtain across in front of you for modesty. But if you have to take a sh*t, then…modesty and privacy go out the window!! You have to do it together, no curtain, no nothing between you. Just a wink and a smile is all you can afford by way of modesty for you, my friend.

But still, I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s even a machine that dispenses “nappy kits” complete with a nappy, nappy wipe and disposable bag in case you’ve run out of your own. And some change rooms even have a play area in there for the kids! So, I think the VIP stands for Very Important Parent, if the washroom facilities are anything to go by.

What a place. What kind of world will my kid spin me into next episode? I can hardly wait to find out.

Until then…hand me that toilet roll son, spare me a square if you’re done?

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Breast Feeds Come To Those Who Wait

Previously…in an earlier post, LOST VS Schnitzel, because Indy was taking sooo long to arrive, I ended with the comment…

…just cut to the end already!!

In actual fact, that is EXACTLY what they did.

The frustrating thing about having a cesarian (besides being opened up and gutted like a fish and incessantly “shooing off” circling Japanese Whale boats), is that, breast milk takes way longer to come in than Kirsty Alley running an Olympic marathon.

Which means our little man wasn’t getting as much milk as he could the traditional way and he lost more than 10% of his birth weight. I know that sounds awesome to Kirtsy Alley, but not so good for babies.

So, we had to give our little bloke formula and/or breast milk “top-ups” to ensure he was getting enough sustenance to keep his weight up. Problem is, that means pumping milk, mixing bottles and washing, boiling and sterilising ’til the cows come home.

(See my earlier post: It All Boils Down To This).

Enter, the Lactation Specialist to our rescue (“Come wit me if you vant to live!”), who provided us with a new approach to top-up feeding. So that, Indy didn’t get used to the idea of drinking from a bottle (better keep him away from those impressionable wino’s in the park, then), one end of this feed line sits in the bottom of the bottle of formula or expressed milk (just because it’s expressed, doesn’t make it any faster), and the other end feeds up through the bottle teat and sneaks into the corner of Indy’s mouth while he suckles at the “tuck-shop”.

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That way, he stays on the breast much longer and the more stimulation it gets, the more milk will come. So, essentially he’s syphoning milk from one bottle at the same time as sucking on the breast. Talk about multi-tasking, and he’s only 5 weeks old!

The good news is, we only had to do this for about 2 weeks straight. His weight is back up (careful, Kirsty Alley), the milk is coming in, so he’s now exclusively pumping his own petrol at the bowser.

Best of all (and to our relief), it means our Pinocchio is growing into a real boy and more importantly, we have ourselves…a happy little customer.

(As this pic, “clearly” demonstrates) lol 🙂

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