Well at least my friend doesn’t. The alternate title for this series is ‘Epitome of Laziness’. The dressing room was a whole 50 or so paces away, 50 steps people! Why bother when you can kneel down in the middle of Target and get all Clockwork Orange
and don’t forget to properly adjust the pups
I have to say I was a bit miffed when we realized you forgot to leave batteries for darling daughter’s Toddler Tabitha doll, now I see that it was not stupidity or forgetfulness but an act of mercy.
Christmas Day I went out to purchase 750 gallons of cranberry juice and picked up batteries so Mira would stop lamenting Tabitha’s non talking/eating/growing state. Since popping in the double A’s and 9volt, all I can think about is burying Tabitha in the back yard.
For starters she talks A LOT. It’s sort of cute that she asks you questions but Tabitha is half deaf so the children are forced to screech at a decibel unholy to my ears to have Tabitha respond appropriately. She is one bossy baby too. I want food, I’m tired, whine whine whine. I have enough whining in my life! It’s so bad we’ve tried enforcing that Tabitha is a “in your room only” toy. We’re still working on that one.
The upside is that Mira is in robot love. She drags her everywhere by her lovely vanilla hair, shrieking Twinkle Twinkle Little Star right along with Tabitha. I wonder if she’ll still love her after I pry out her batteries and pack her speaker cavity with old spaghetti.
I’d like to post about how magical Christmas was for my kiddos but Ive been pissing razorblades for the past two days. Never before in my life have I had a UTI and to those of you who suffer regularly - I am so sorry! Where can I send flowers and chocolates? I can’t imagine coping with recurring ones! I’m on my way out to see the doctor (it’s bad enough that I willingly made an appointment with the one farking doctor I hate) and hopefully I will return in a few hours clutching a script for salvation. Until then I raise my 64 ounce jug of unsweetened cran-blueberry juice to you.
Tonight we have a huge holiday dinner with The Hubster’s side of the family. I feel bad for the restaurant that is playing host to this scheduled mayhem. We can be a demanding and piggish bunch. This has been a lean Christmas for us but rather then scrooging the relatives I made them gluten free candy. Don’t you wish you were related?
I am still so MEH about this holiday season. Meh, just plain ol’ MEH. I’m forcing it though. I’ve slapped on my Christmas smile and started candy making
I’m in the midst of making my own peppermint patties and if I can force it, I’ll make some toffee too.
Producing milk and growing a person is melting my hips and butt clean off my body. Moments after nursing my head swoons and my hearing gets weird. I can not seem to keep up with this double demand. I guess it is for the best. It is making weaning more necessary and it is making me follow through.
It stabs me right in the heart. His watery hazel eyes lock onto mine and he furiously works his wee wittle hand signing “milk milk!” I hand him a cup of formula which he disdainfully flings aside and moans “Anuhnuh! Anuhnuh!!” These breast which were so nourishing, leave him hungry and unsatiated, yet he only has eyes for them.
With my history of preterm labor and now preterm babies, my doctor asked me to wean by 12 weeks. I laughed. I knew that short of leaving the baby at home and hiding out Mexico for 2 months, weaning Levi that fast would be impossible. I’m in my 12th week now and only just this past week gotten him to accept any kind of formula. We have managed to drop one breastfeeding session a day and all other feeds are only after a cup of formula.
These last few weeks my milk was obviously not enough to sustain him as he was waking 5 to 6 times a night starving. Since getting him to take formula he is now waking 1 and on a bad night 2 times a night. And while this all seems like good news, I cry.
Levi is more invested in breastfeeding then any of my other children. Mira weaned herself by now, as did Tessa. They were only in it for survival and once solid food came on the scene it was see ya later lactater! But Levi, dear sweet Levi loves to collapse into my arms and curl around my breast. He pats me lightly and sighs with such contentment that my heart quivers.
Now, instead, it is a frantic time, like he knows that each session might just be the last one. I no longer recognize his scent, it is foreign and changed since adding Carnation Comfort Proteins to his body. Old lefty seems to have nearly stopped producing. Righty is still milkful but her let downs are weak and disappointing. We have come to a point where it is all for comfort. I haven’t quite convinced myself to pry that comfort from his rose bud lips so SHHHHHHHH, please don’t tell my doctor and please tell my uterus to hang in there.
::::::::::::Warning I am about to let the language fly::::::::::::::::::::::::::
I’m not kidding, don’t click ‘more’ unless you can stomach some sailor talk
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Oh noes! I’ve got THE FEVER and we all know who doesn’t. In desperation he turned to the children, our children, our 4 and 5 year old children…
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a lot like Christmas
or like someone shoved a live grenade down Barbie’s throat…. I haven’t quite decided which.
