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My Weaner Has a First Name

As I write this, I am sitting on my couch listening to my daughter Sophie chatter over the baby monitor. She is in her crib, but it’s not nap time. She’s there because she wants to nurse, and I want to wean her, and I don’t know what else to do with her. Sometimes she’ll be distracted by a snack, a toy, or a TV show, but this afternoon she’ll have none. She has nursed three times today (it’s about 4:00 P.M.now) and that is the best we’ve ever done. The girl is 21 months old now, and it is beyond time for us to be done nursing. Because before two weeks ago when I really started to try to wean her, Sophie nursed not just in the morning, not just at night, not just at nap time, but whenever she wanted to. Her average was probably 8-10 times a day. It’s just crazy, and exhausting, and as much as I have loved nursing my child, and as much as I have talked about weaning her but not ever done anything about it, I am now READY. Over the past two weeks I’ve really been able to cut back, but the past two days haven’t been so hot. So today I’m trying so hard to stick to my guns.

But I’m sitting here crying on the couch. Nothing feels good or right about any of this. Being a human pacifier didn’t feel good or right, having Sophie try and pull my shirt up in public – definitely not good or right. Having her fuss and climb all over me and having to put her to bed because she wants to nurse and I won’t let her – doesn’t feel good or right either. Now it’s 4:17, and I can’t leave her up there forever!

If someone could please give me a “Magic Weaner” button, that would be super. The process is wearing me down. If I could just wake up tomorrow and be over this hurdle, I’d be one relieved mama.

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Tellin’ the Toddler Truth

Last night we had some friends over for dinner. They have a son, Benji, who will be three in December and despite the age difference, he and Joshua are good buddies. This is partially because Benji, like Joshua at his age, is a very good talker. He talks like a much older child, so he and Joshua can communicate really well.

Recently Benji’s parents have been working with him on potty training, and also like Joshua was at his age, Benji is NOT real thrilled about actually going on the potty, but he likes to talk about the possibility occurring one day.

Which prompted him to ask his mother to where his poop came from.

Which prompted his mother to give him an honest answer.

Which prompted Benji to greet his father at the door with, “Guess what Daddy? My poop comes out my butthole!” this evening.

Which prompted his father to tell that story at dinner tonight.

Which prompted Kool-Aid to practically come flying out my nose.

You gotta love a line like that! And I’d love to know, friends: what’s the darnedest thing your kid ever said?

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I can’t take the drama!!

Our lives are completely consumed with drama… serious, world-ending drama.

Like what Kate is going to wear each day, for example.

She must have stood in front of her closet for 20 minutes this morning. A closet full of clothes and she can’t find one decent thing to wear.

She is four years old! Everything looks cute! I mean, I could understand such activity if she were, say, 29 years old and four months post-partum. Then what is wear is a true quandary. But she could pull off a swimsuit, tutu and rainboot ensemble – this is not a big decision!

It kills me how dramatic she is. Yesterday I told her she couldn’t wear a frilly skirt to the park. She looked at me with the utmost seriousness and said “All. My dreams. Are dead.”

Lest I kill her dreams, I consented to the skirt.

She couldn’t find her favorite shoes this morning (I don’t know where they could have been… but let’s just say I am glad she didn’t look in the trash can). Anyway, Andy showed her the footwear choices for the day. She picked up a pair of Nikes and said, “Well, these shoes won’t make me very popular, but I guess I’ll wear them anyway.”

So this drama, it gets better, right? Surely she’ll outgrow it any day now. It can’t last forever. I mean, look at me. I’m totally drama-free. And I never stare at my closet for extended periods of time.

Oh crap. I am so in for it.

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