Whatever

 

My girl crush.

Given the choice of befriending a public figure, dead or alive, I will always choose Tina Fey. The "ordinary working mom who scarfs down Kit Kats in her sweatpants"* is anything but ordinary; Little does she know that I look to her for a daily dosage of life advice. Her knowledge knows no bounds, and her views are always colorful and refreshing.

"Without nipples, boobs would be pointless."

Having recently given birth to Quinn, my mind has pretty much been consumed with everything boob-related. And yes, the charming T-Fey covers the topic of boobs impeccably well.** She was once quoted as having said in an interview: 

The advice I always try to give for a mom is… 

Whatever you do breastfeeding-wise – great. 

Great. Whatever. 

Supportive without passing judgment. 

Ahh, the world needs more mamas, more women, like Tina.

Those who follow this blog know that my experience with teat-feeding Olive was a complete and utter nightmare. I gave it my all, but it takes two to tango. Baby girl was born with an insatiable appetite, but her appetite was inconveniently paired with an inability to latch. I spent much of my first month and a half postpartum floating about the house with engorged, melons-for-tits (technical term: engorgement) topped off with clogged ducts and ravaged nipples. My lactation consultant told me breastfeeding would get easier by the second week. It did not. Soaring anxiety led to the declaration that my tits were off limits to Olive. Week two onwards, I'd pump. And so, we rented a hospital-grade breast pump resembling a WWII torture-device. See here:

"The Bomb"

 I was hooked up to this contraption every hour and forty-five minutes in order to maintain milk supply. I obediently consumed pig feet soup, chicken feet soups and Fenugreek pills to stimulate milk flow. All effort aside, I still struggled to produce a single bottle for Olive. Supplemental meals of formula became a necessity; and as I prepped her bottles of water and powder, I'd cry out of guilt. "Breast is best," the hospital teat-Nazis had told me, and there I was, trying my best, yet unable to provide the best for my first born. I breastfed Olive for two months and spent another half month weaning her. When the boob feeding came to an end, I felt incredibly relieved. Olive too was happy for a diet of formula meant her tummy would always be full, that I could hold her close to my chest again, and ooh, longer lashes?! (Olive's old nanny was convinced longer, fuller lashes were a positive side-effect of formula-feeding.) Who knew formula feeding had so many perks? 

Formula-fed Olive.

Breast friend, Quinn

Fast forward to the day Quinn was born. I'm at the hospital, and the nurses are asking, "Do you plan to breastfeed?" I've just been sliced open (second c-section), am drugged and hormonal. "Breast is best" echoes through my mind. Dammit. Rhymes are so effective. I answer, "Yes," and the discomfort begins. I am determined to be a better performing cow this time around, and though I grimace at the start of each feeding, Quinn and I as a team have survived the first two weeks of breastfeeding. Sure, she claws at my raw nipples and veiny breast with her newborn talons, and sure, her gums are harboring some freaky baby teeth, but seeing her goofy, drunken, face of satisfaction after each grub-fest is priceless.

So there you have it. There's more than one way to skin a cat. Both formula and breast milk have worked just fine for my girls, so mamas, choose what works best for you. To those who disagree with your decisions: Whatever.

* Tina as described in an interview for O Magazine.
** Read Bossypants. The title of her chapter on breastfeeding: There's a Drunk Midget in my House

Fan Girl

Sampling of the work of DISC Interiors

See more of their work here and here.

Baby Quinn may not be due until June, but I'm already in nesting mode. Last year, le huz and I enlisted my design crushes, Krista Schrock and David John Dick of DISC Interiors to transform Casa de Olive y Beans into a comfy, yet tailored space. In all likelihood, I will be on lockdown with two little ones and a breast pump for the rest of 2014, so investing in the beautification of our 85 year-old senior-citizen-of-a-crib seemed like a no-brainer. I considered taking on the arduous task of working out the interiors myself but felt the benefits from working with and learning from my idols were worth pursuing. Luckily my frugal-but-loving-and-understanding husband agreed.

Like any good fan-girl, I performed my fair share of digital stalking of the talented duo before contacting them. There wasn't a single sampling of their work that my husband and I disliked, so it was easy for us to hand over all reigns to Krista and David - subject to a budget, of course. I loved that they understood our need for a livable space (dogs and babies roam our home) and shared my love for a classic palette and appreciation for the teeniest of design details. I actually salivate over pretty hardware. Who does that?!? During our design journey, I was introduced to artisans, materials and textiles I had only read about in glossy magazines or admired in blogs. What a treat and privilege to have had their guidance on executing our idea of the dream home. Talented, kind and unassuming, Krista and David are interior design unicorns.

Some of the pieces we ended up purchasing have yet to arrive, but the following images provide a taste of the space that lucky Baby Quinn will be welcomed into. To think that I didn't even have a decorated baby room ready for Olive when she emerged. Winston Churchill was quoted as having said, "We shape our homes and then our homes shape us." Perhaps this explains why she was so angry during her first year of life. See? All of this? Worth it.

Credits: From left to right and top to bottom

mirror by Casa Midy, console by Egg Collective, fabric swatch from Ralph Lauren

fabric swatch by Zak+Fox, sconce by Billy Cotton, lamp by Aerin Lauder, 

throw by Tabula Rasa, vintage Spanish cabinet from Revival Antiques in Pasadena, chandelier by Apparatus Studio