So weaning. Hmm. It’s hard to get going. I’m vacillating between slowly taking Jack off breastfeeding and to only milk/formula in bottles (ie, not decreasing his feedings, just taking me out of the equation) and not doing anything. Just riding it out.
He bites me. It’s not a sudden bite that I can discipline. It’s a slow, absentminded clamp down that leaves deeps marks on me. He doesn’t eat as much when I feed him versus a bottle, so he doesn’t sleep as well after I feed him. I’m tired of pumping at work. I broke my pump, in fact. Ben fixed it by wedging a thick fold of paper in the interior. But it worries me that it could break again at work and I won’t have the time to fix it. I don’t need that kind of anxiety.
So I’ve told myself for at least a week now that I’m going to cut my feedings down from 5 to 1 when I’m home. Ideally I’d keep the bedtime feeding. I’ve made it down to 3. Things keep happening that make me change my course. When I’m in the moment, I tend to rely on breastfeeding. But then I’m feeding him and he’s not getting much and he bites me, and I resolve to quit. Back and forth and back forth. Maybe I should quit cold turkey? I have conflicting feelings about the guilt of switching to all formula too. Milk is free! Healthier! Formula stinks! It’s expensive! But, I don’t want to keep pumping. Clearly this milk thing has to end SOME day. He can have cow milk soon anyway. Back and forth and back and forth. I just finished Tina Fey’s Bossypants book. The chapter on child raising and her breastfeeding experience is hilarious! Here are some quotes:
“If you choose not to love your baby enough to breast-feed, you can pump you milk using a breast pump. (This may be easier for the modern mom because it is an expensive appliance and we’re more comfortable with those than with babies.)”
“If you’ve ever opened a can of infant formula mix, then you know it smells like someone soaked old vitamins in a bucket of wet leaves, then dried them in a hot car.”
“Teat Nazis are a solely western upper-middle-class phenomenon occurring when highly ambitious women experience deprivation from outside modes of achievement. Their highest infestation pockets are Brooklyn and Hollywood.”
(Seriously a fun book. Family, it’s on kindle. Miranda, I was laughing with you through a lot of it. Let’s enjoy a couple more.)
On making “me time” for new moms “Try to establish that you’re the only one in your family allowed to go to the post office.”
“By nineteen, I had found my look. Oversize T-shirts, bike shorts, and wrestling shoes. To prevent the silhouette from being too baggy, I would cinch it at the waist with a fanny pack. I was pretty sure I would wear this look forever. . . I was nailing it on a daily basis. Find something like this for yourself as soon as possible.”
Here’s Ben and Jack in green and khaki, pretty much nailing it on a daily basis.
Obviously I’m done talking about breastfeeding. Because all the guys who read my blog probably stopped reading already.
So can I tell you how upset I am about fashion right now? I have a little spending money and want to get myself some nice, hip clothes so I can stop feeling like a college student. But in Boulder all I saw was this and this and this. Gah!! Are they going to start packaging the laundered BO smell of thrift stores as well? I ended up with a Colorado T shirt from Urban Outfitters. Ben pointed it out to me because he knows I have been looking for this shirt design for about ten years. It made up for the utter trash everywhere else. (But doesn’t help my campaign to stop looking like a college student.)
I made some chocolate crinkle cookies week. If I hadn’t run out of 2% milk they would already be gone.
Ben cooks dinner more than I do these days. It’s pretty awesome. Last night I came home to sloppy joes and mashed potatoes with veggies, jalapenos and cheese mixed in.
Amanda and I are planning Jack’s first birthday party. I KNOW. The first year goes so fast. I miss they days when I could cage him in my arms and force him to snuggle. Now he digs his fingers into my eyeballs and I release him quickly. Anyway, the party is turning into quite the craft extravaganza. I hope people come.
The Big Bang Theory is a great show. My family has been telling me this for years and I never “got” it. I wish I could watch them on netflix instant. We might reactive disk service for a month so I can get the other seasons. Maybe in the summer when the TV slows down. Wait! No, the summer means Doctor Who and Burn Notice and SYTYCD! Hmm. Not enough time in the day for all the chill-axing I want to do. Ben turned me onto a new Fox show, Breaking In. It’s pretty good, which means it will probably be cancelled soon.
Oh, I wanted to mention that we found Twiglets at an import store in Boulder. We bought them for Amanda for sitting, because they are mentioned in Spaced a couple times, so they must be a British thing. Well, four days later the bag is sitting uneaten on our counter (that’s pretty much unheard of for snacks in our house). It turns out they are Marmite flavored. Does anyone want some Marmite chips?
Random photo interlude.
Jack’s new mobility has lead to several head bonks a day. Sunday he gave himself three good ones. Here’s a big one he gave himself with a door. You can’t really tell, but it’s raised and blue and cut. This guy needs to understand that we want his middle name to be IRONIC.
And that’s about all I can think of to say right now. Felt like my blog posts were light on text lately. This should buy me a few more straight from the camera posts.
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