Thank you all for your wonderful birthday wishes! It was a nice birthday--not too exciting, but sometimes that's a good thing. Ordinarily we might have gone out for my birthday, but because it was Thursday then we were busy. On Thursdays, we meet up with several other couples from our church for a Bible study. I had, however, planned ahead and made myself in charge of bringing dessert for Thursday. My friend said I shouldn't have had to make my own birthday dessert, but I was happy to do it. Plus, that way I knew I was going to be eating something I enjoyed! The dessert? Blueberry/Cranberry Cobbler. It was delish. As it should be since it has 3 cups of sugar.
Really, it was a lovely birthday aside from one teeny tiny thing: I woke up with the tell-tale signs of a nursing infection (yes, I could call it a breast infection, but I'm trying to be specific here). Fortunately, I was a good girl scout and had already prepared for such an event. Having had a horrid case of mastitis six weeks after Sydney was born (I celebrated July 4th, 2004, with hot and cold packs), I didn't want to go through that again. So shortly after Jules was born I sent Jason off to the grocery store to pick me up a head of cabbage. Yep. Cabbage. One of the best remedies for fighting off those infections is to place a nice cold leaf of cabbage on the girls and let the healing begin. I don't know why cabbage works, I just know that it does. Four days and a refrigerator minus a head of cabbage later and I'm feeling much better now.
The downside? You mean minus the fact you have cabbage on your boob? Well, you may end up smelling a bit cabbagey. Also, cabbage leafs are extremely non-absorbent which--as any nursing mom can tell you--can be rather perilous. This I realized again Thursday night when I was at our Bible study. Although it is a very nursing-friendly group since all the families there have young children (and four of the moms have nursing babies at the group), I still do my best to maintain a level of discreetness. This is not always easy to do, especially since we're all rather cozy on couches. Last Thursday I was seated quite closely next to one of the dads of the group, so I did my level best not to flash him. With Jules in place, and a blanket draped over my front, I started to nurse her when I realized that I still had a cabbage leaf in place. I removed it and consequently released a small flood of milk that had pooled under the leaf. Julianne sputtered and coughed, and I contorted myself so that the milk didn't go dripping onto the leather couch where gravity would surely run it towards my backside (or worse: the backside of the dad next to me).
I imagined the conversation:
Other Dad: (noticing his jeans are all wet) What the....?
Me: Don't worry. Just a spot of milk. Make sure you wash those jeans. Don't want protein stains on your rear.
I managed to soak up the milk with my shirt, but as I fiddled around with that, at some point I lost track of where the leaf was.
Oh no. The leaf. Where's the leaf? WHERE'S THE LEAF?!! What if I stand up and a wilted cabbage leaf falls from under my shirt? What if the leaf is stuck to my shirt? What if it's stuck to Jule's head?! I have to find the leaf!
Mad scrambling under my shirt ensued like some PG-13 rated movie, but fortunately I was able to find the leaf and secure it, saving myself from future humiliation. Of course, the whole ordeal made me a bit flustered and when Jules finally emerged from under the blanket her face was dripping with milk. The dad next to me couldn't help but notice, and gave a knowing chuckle. I laughed too, perhaps more out of relief that there wasn't a cabbage leaf stuck to her forehead.
In short, I do recommend cabbage leafs for fighting off infections, but you have been duly warned of their mischievous nature.
Even though there were other bithday events--a party at McMenamins on Friday, shopping for a new computer monitor on Saturday, enjoying a Super Bowl party at a friend's on Sunday--I'm quite sure that turning 31 will forever be remembered as the day I held cabbage leaves near and dear to my heart. Literally.