Sunday, June 15, 2008

Epilogue

Wow. This chronicle wound down pretty quickly, didn't it?

Littlun continued to nurse until Deccember 2007.

Not long after the last post, we started trying to find a decent pediatric dentist for Littlun because of early caries. It was a trial, and all I'll say about it is this: They will tell you that you caused cavities with your toxic, sugar-laden milk and poor parenting skills. That nursing a child with teeth is the worst thing you can do for your child right after failing to use a booster seat. That's all crap. It's dicey to breastfeed a child who also eats "real food," but certainly not worse than Fruit Chews and Kool-Aid at every meal and no breastmilk at all. Follow your heart, use a non-fluoridated toothpaste before and after every nursing session, and feel free to just not even bring it up.
Okay, and one more thing-- just because a dentist says they are a pediatric dentist does not mean they are board certified, or even a decent human being. The first guy we took our little boy to only works with children because he can't stand people who will talk back to him. If you ever find yourself in a discussion with a tooth-mechanic who talks about exploding lab rats when you mention Xylitol, pause only to settle your bill at the receptionist desk on your way out of his office.
Take the time to find someone who is respectful to you and your child.
We had Littlun's four top incisors capped and a cavity in one molar filled in January 2007. Dental sealants and a more rigorous brushing routine have stopped the problem from progressing.

But by September that year it was a pretty uncomfortable situation for the three of us-- by Littlun's third birthday, Daddy was getting tired of seeing his "big boy" nursing all the time, and discouraged it pretty generally. I was starting to feel a little worn down after three years of pretty intense breastfeeding... And I was the only one around who didn't want to see another baby in the house, and wondered if it was because I was still nursing the first one. As preschool progressed, Littlun wanted to nurse for so long in the mornings to possibly avoid school that he was on the breast for nearly an hour, and we were generally always running late. By November, this tension was building up to the point that Littlun wanted to nurse pretty much all the time in fear that his account would be suspended at any moment.
So a few feeks before Thanksgiving-- tired, frustrated, sore-- I instituted a Two-mama Ticket program, in which Littlun was issued three tickets a day that he could trade in for a nursing session. This rivalled sliced bread in terms of "things that went over well at their inception." He would ask for two mommies, I'd ask him for his ticket, he would gleefully run to the refrigerator and pull one out of the coupon holder and present it to me. Sometimes when he'd used all his tickets and still wanted to nurse, there would be some grumbling, but it was generally a nice transition.
In December, he got only two tickets, and two weeks before Christmas we were down to one Two-mama ticket a day.
I chose Christmas day as the last day to nurse him-- his grandparents had come to visit and Santa Claus had a totally fantastic present for him. Sure enough, he was so heavily occupied by Aji and Ajoba and the Spider-Man playset that old St. Nick had dropped off for him that two weeks went by before he realized that he'd not had two mommies in a while.
And that was pretty much it.


Yesterday he climbed up into my lap and reached right down into my shirt. Grabbing a nipple, he said, "I still want two mommies sometimes." "There's no milk left," I said warningly. "Maybe there is," he said hopefully, "I want there to be." Feeling impish, I asked, "Do you want to try?" He laughed and said, "No thanks."

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Monday, October 30, 2006

The International Language of Nursing

Even stripped and pared down to the barest lines, these icons still make me want to grab my racing toddler and snuggle him.

http://www.mothering.com/sections/iconcontest/icon-finalists.html

This also made me think about the problems I've had trying to locate lounges in which to nurse my little one- usually only identifying them by spotting another mother as she exits. Needless to say, airports are the worst. They manage to have a maintenance closet every thirteen feet, but can't spare one of these closed doors for a nursing mother? Once, I managed to find a discreet bank of seats near an abandoned gate in some city that I can't recall, only to be invaded periodically by astonished business travellers on cell phones. On a recent trip to Washington DC, I discovered a "family lounge" at one of the Smithsonians and nursed my kid there just for the hell of it. Granted, it was basically an oversized accessible bathroom with an extra countertop and a lightly padded bench, but I was bound and determined not to let the opportunity go to waste. And whenever we take out pictures of our trip and Littlun asks "Where's that?" I can say, "That is the Air and Space Museum! We did two-mamas over there across from the Spirit of St. Louis!"

New name

I've also decided to rename this blog-- not that anyone but me has ever read it. But names being sincerely important to me, I felt like maybe one reason I wasn't posting on this anymore is because I couldn't admit what it is that I'm really talking about.
So I'm going to talk about my milk.
That sounds seriously strange. I still can't believe that I'm actually producing milk. That I can actually sustain human life with a substance created by my body.
And that I can talk about this now with my nurseling, whose vocabulary is expanding minute by minute. (He can now tell me when he's Alldone with one mama and ready for The Another Mama.)
And I don't know when we'll stop...

Just a note

Just a quick note...
Littlun is still nursing. He says my milk is better than chocolate.
Better than chocolate?
HE IS NEVER GOING TO WEAN!

Friday, August 25, 2006

It finally happened....

First of all, Littlun now calls my boobs his "two mamas." When he wants to nurse, he asks for his two mamas, and our little joke is that we can't do two-mamas in Wal*Mart, even though when he sits in the shopping cart he is at just exactly the right height to do so.
Secondly, the students are back in town and have been glutting the town of its supply of lava lamps and neon purple door beads, and Wal*Mart of course has all the best distilled pop kitsch in town. Its always packed with kids.
Well, I'd feared for a while that this would happen... today I wore a spaghetti strap tank with a built-in "bra" and sure enough, in the center aisle at Wal*Mart the Littlun reached in and popped out a Mama. I thought I had it fixed, until I turned a corner and he said, flipping it with his thumb, "Mama's out! Two-Mamas in Wal*Mart!" and triumphantly he latched on! I'll never forget the look in this one sorority chick's eyes... but I will rearrange the memory enough to make it a look of sheer admiration.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

Hot Mama

Just out of curiosity, I asked Littlun what "Two Mamas" (as he now calls breastfeeding) tastes like. He popped off and said emphatically, "Spicy!"

Thursday, June 01, 2006

McMa-ma

I should probably change the name of this blog to "boobybloog" because it seems like I visit here most often when something relating to breastfeeding happens.
Today as Littlun was drifting off for his nap, a thought occurred to him, and he said "Hot-hot-hot!" and waved his hands like he'd been burned.
"Hot?" I asked. "What's hot?"
"French fries!"
"Oh, are french fries hot?"
"Yeah. Good."
"Oh, french fries are good, too?"
"Yep," he said and went back to nursing.
Curious, I asked "Is ma-ma good?"
He stopped nursing long enough to exclaim, "Yeah!" and then fell asleep.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

More on the Magic Number

This morning Littl'un was nursing himself awake, and had one paw on the "opposite side." He had a far-off look in his eyes, and I said, "What are you thinking about this morning?" His attention snapped back to me and he said, "Two!"

Baby Fat

Yesterday I noticed that the "bracelets" or rolls of fat on Littl'un's wrists are starting to disappear. The pudge on his ankles has been gone for some time now, but somehow it's those soft little wrists that says "baby." And they're almost gone, now.
He's pretending to blow bubbles through a tennis racquet right now. And now he's smacking a giant bouncy ball with it while yelling "Boom boom boom!" Okay, now he's trying to whack our dog with aforementioned racquet-- gotta go!

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Nurse-ery rhymes

"Two-two-tee-tee-done-done-done!"
That's my little guy's version of "eeny meeny," when he's deciding what side to start with. It's absolutely amazing!
Looking over my posts, it seems like a large percentage deal with breastfeeding in a fairly short time. In fact all of these posts deal with nursing, food, or baby food. Hmm, I've made the decision to keep nursing my toddler, but maybe I'm still feeling a little weird about it? I mean, it's becoming a social reference for him-- I was looking at an online album of a distant friend (with the tot in my lap) when we came across a photo of someone doing a shot out of another's cleavage. "Yum-mum?" he asked. "Yep," I replied, "although you have to stick to virgin yum-mum for now." I also have a memory of wanting to nurse long after I had been weaned (I think I was jealous of my little brother) and when my mother finally broke down and let me, I'd forgotten how. (You can occasionally see someone who can still perform the required rippling tongue movements on "America's Funniest Home Videos," or maybe if you get really lucky in Amsterdam some summer you'll come across Amazink Elke.)
I asked at the last LaLecheLeague meeting if anyone else had ever had to nurse a toy and almost everyone there who had nursed beyond a year had some story to tell about refueling toy trucks or nursing a teddy bear to sleep. I'm also reading a great (if slanted-- its published by LLL after all) book about nursing toddlers (and preschoolers, gulp) and there's a really great quote in there-- "You're not a real woman until you've nursed a triceratops!" Well, does an American black bear count? I mean, it's not as big as a dinosaur, but it's also not extinct...

Earworms

Did you know that the theme to "Woody's Roundup" from Toy Story 2 is an earworm? So is the entire soundtrack to Bambi. The payoff for infesting myself with these parasites is watching Littl'un act out all the scenes and laugh hystericallywhen Woody gets attacked by the Woof-Woof.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Share and Share Alike

Our son likes to share things with people-- he always makes sure my husband or I get a bite of whatever he's eating, and will often try to give his toys (or items from our shopping cart) away to other children or friendly adults.
But does it go too far when he wants me to nurse his stuffed animals? Today Love Dog had to have ma-ma, too, and last night Pooh-Bear gave up honey to join Littl'un in a milk treat.
Well, I guess it means he's a naturally generous child if he'll share those.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

No, it's ham-BUR-ger. Ham-BUR-ger!

I was talking to The Littl'un this afternoon about what we could have for supper tonight. "Hmmm. We could have hamburgers..." I said as I peered into the freezer. I looked over at my son, and he had an uncertain look on his face and one finger in his nostril, the universal sign for "booger."
His thought:
"What on earth is Mama gonna cook for us tonight, and where is she gonna get enough of them? Well, as long as I get ketchup with it..."

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Dumb ol' Thumper

Yesterday I got a charlie horse while trying to teach Ro how to "hop over it" like the baby rabbits on Bambi. A charlie horse from hopping. How out of shape do you have to be to pull a muscle whilst jumping over a stuffed bear?
I can't wait for spring, haha. Get it? Spring?