I know, you’re probably thinking that based on my sporadic posting that I’m going to tell you I’ve decided to stop blogging. Sorry, you’re not off the hook that easily, I have to have someone to share my
awesomeness gibberish with. Today marks one week of not breastfeeding. I left last Thursday for Chicago and then Georgia and was gone almost 5 days during which there was no frozen milk supply or any alternate to whole milk. Granted she’s 19 months old, so it’s not really a problem except she loves to nurse. Apparently not enough lately though, because unlike in January where I couldn’t make it without pumping while we were in Vegas, I had absolutely no problem in Savannah. Simply because there was no milk.
How do you explain this to a 19 month old who clings to you and yells “eat eat eat”? I thought each day would get better, but it seems each day is a little worse. It tears at your heart, I want to give in to the fact that I know she just appreciates the sheer comfort of it, but at the same time I know I’m just postponing the inevitable. So I redirect, offer attractive snacks at times and in amounts never before heard of, how about marshmallows, disgusting chemical filth I would probably not normally give you, sure you can have fistfuls, how about a sucker or cookie or here just lick the sugar from the bag. Anything to make you happy, since this is breaking my heart just a little bit. It’s made worse by knowing she’s probably going to be the baby forever and you want everything to last forever with the baby, really you just want to stop time and keep them little forever.
Except we can’t. From the minute they are born they are growing away from us, first they roll away, crawl away, walk away, eventually they make new friends and want to play with them, next they are off at school and we become less and less important until finally the day comes when they go out into the world on their own, away from us. Yet no matter where they go, there is a part of them that are always secure in our hearts and it aches a little as if a piece of us is missing, each time they grow away.
Now after all of the complaining about the challenges of nursing a breastfeeding toddler, I should celebrate. I mean really let’s review, I can drink more than an occasional glass of wine, take allergy medicine again, and I’ll never have to pull out that dreaded breast pump again. I should be pouring margaritas and toasting to the end of this era. Yet instead, I just feel sad.
Who wouldn’t want to give that face, whatever she desires!
Grab. Squeeze. Pull Down. In very simple terms, that is how you hand milk a cow. It is also Pippa’s newest technique for either attempting to get more milk while nursing or purely for the entertainment value. I mean really she has to have something to do while she’s hanging out, doesn’t she? Don’t answer that! Perhaps it is the farming blood coming out in her, I’m not really sure. All I know is I used to complain about how pumping made me feel like I had more than I ever wanted in common with the popular milk breed, but this new little quirk of hers has that beat hands down. As if nursing a toddler that won’t wean doesn’t have its own particular set of challenges, see past complaints regarding gymnastics and circular kicks to the face, I’m now subjected to her not so pleasant grab and squeeze. Why does this bring me back to bad memories from college?If eventually I stop writing and start mooing, please stop me.
We’ve also hit that stage where you can tell people think it’s weird that we’re still nursing. If they were to ask, which no one does, the reasons are multiple. In fact I’ll tell you, maybe I’ll get a few less strange looks. They include the fact that she doesn’t sleep through the night and if I want her to sleep past 3 a.m. it’s a must, she’s pretty small for her age and not particularly fond of whole milk, so we’d like her to drink something, and if you were to get over your cultural biases it’s actually totally freaking normal, just not particularly convenient. This last point, combined with the fact that not everyone can nurse, is what I attribute to this country’s viewpoint on breastfeeding. We’re selfish as a country, we like ourselves and our freedoms and Mama’s who breastfeed give up even more of their time (think pumping, planning, nursing time) than those who use formula, time which is can be very valuable when you have little ones. This along with the fact that there is some strange stigma about a baby nursing as compared to someones boob hanging out of their dress, that makes us just nonsensical as a nation. Not that it keeps the creepers from staring at you in public, even when you’re covered up.
So the next time you see a Mama nursing, don’t stare or gawk, just know she’s doing it for reasons that must be pretty important to her and leave her the heck alone, and if the nursing one is a toddler then she really must have her reasons because I assure you no one nurses a toddler for funsies!
Latch on, Latch off. You see lots of posts about the gymnastics of nursing a toddler, hell I think I’ve even written one, back when I was writing regularly. We’re not going to discuss this past month hiatus, we’ll chalk it up to Flu-mageddon 2012 and lots of traveling. Anyway, what’s worst than the gymnastics of nursing a toddler, the inconvenience nursing is to their play schedule and 20 second attention span. No that doesn’t mean they want to wean, I can hear some of your brains right now, I’m psychic like that, thinking just wean her. I assure you this kid doesn’t want to wean yet, because when I’m not operating like a convenience store full of milky boob goodness, she simply dive bombs my chest and starts screaming. Because that’s what non-verbal toddlers who don’t know sign language do. They dive bomb your chest. ANYWHERE. In the grocery store, Target, the bank, at the park, Grandma’s house. Anywhere that is super inconvenient for nursing, let alone when you have to nurse a toddler who couldn’t be inconspicuous if her life depended on it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for nursing anywhere, but that doesn’t mean I want to put on a production, I don’t need to be the star of Pippa’s lets eat and play and eat and kick and upside down and around the neck and latch on again show. It can wait for home, where there’s a chair or a bed or somewhere comfortable where I can close my eyes and not have to view the show, just take up my role as the nursing 7-eleven, until the same shopper finally makes up her mind and buys the damn milk, so to speak. Waiting ’til home also won’t start the annoying when are you going to wean her questions, the kid’s barely on the charts for her weight as it is, she does eat solid food, we will continue to feed her solid food but I’m not taking away her favorite food source until she wants to. PERIOD. Even if it means I have to live with the role of a 7-eleven for awhile longer. Okay, that’s enough ranting, now I’m going to dazzle you with a few pictures of adorableness and swear to you I will find the energy to write a blog post again before another month somehow passes, perhaps I will even find it in me to make it entertaining, no promises.
Don’t you just love the snot coming out of his nose, classic!
Also I wish I could bottle his curls and sell them, I would totally buy them for myself if I could!!!