I love my babies. 2014 is the year I'm gonna love my body, too! Here is a play by play of the past 5 years, most of which I have spent pregnant, breastfeeding, or pregnant AND breastfeeding. It's taken a toll on my body.
2009-I spent most of the year pregnant.
2010-I spent the whole year breastfeeding.
2011-I spent the beginning of the year pregnant AND breastfeeding. Then just pregnant. Then just breastfeeding. THAT was a crazy year!
2012- I spent the entire year breastfeeding.
2013- Still breastfeeding (until November).
It's funny that the last post I made was about breastfeeding a toddler, and Opal spontaneously decided to stop breastfeeding around Thanksgiving. She's asked for a booby only once since then. Bittersweet. I still feel drops of milk leaking out every now and then though. Guess I could always be a wet nurse!
So that is almost 5 years of baby, baby, baby! And 2014 is the year that I don't have a baby IN me or ON me (in the nursing sense:). Woo-hoo. I do a lot of calculating of the months I spent pregnant/breastfeeding and just amazes me what our bodies go through for our babies. I spent 40 months breastfeeding! 40! That is like three and a half years! Crazy to me. So, here's to ME in 2014!!! (knock on wood!)
Sunday, November 17, 2013
So, I just happened to look at my blog for the first time in yeah...9 months! cray-cray! And I noticed my little breastfeeding ticker said I've been breastfeeding for 2 years, 2 months, 2 weeks, and 2 days! That's a lot of twos! Some people probably just think I've forgotten to take the ticker down and some just think I'm crazy like that lady on Time magazine. There's a lot of things I've failed at as a mother, but breastfeeding is not one of them. So, I think I'll get Opal this shirt...
Monday, February 11, 2013
Just another night in the tub. Opal is gripping an old waffle she found leftover from breakfast. Rather than pry it from her hands and endure a hissy fit, I let her take it in the tub with her. I choose my battles. So the waffle turns soggy of course. I call Chris into the bathroom to watch over the bathing beauties while I try on a pair of jeans. Hand-me-downs from my friend. Someone had given them to her and of course they were too big. She played it off like they weren’t long enough for her long legs, but I know that’s code for, “These are too big for me so I thought you could wear them.” I told her to not even think about it unless they were in the double digits because I haven’t seen a size eight in years. “Oh of course you can wear them. Have you been working out?” OK fine I’ll take them. So while the children are in the tub I muster up the energy to try on the largest of the three pairs of size eights. I suck it in and hold my breath. Literally. I buttoned them. I couldn’t breathe. But my butt looked pretty dang good in them. That’s when it happened. Chris and I were both admiring my assets in the bathroom mirror when he looks over and sees something on the bathroom floor…”Is that POOP?!!” he says. As I take off the jeans, I casually reassure him, “Oh, no that’s just soggy waffle.” “Well, it looks like poop.” I reassure him that Opal entered the tub with a waffle and that was the remnants of it that Cannon was throwing out of the tub. “That’s a lot of waffle.” I pick up the “waffle” with some toilet paper. “Wait, maybe that IS poop!” I am convinced as another handful of actual POOP splatters ON MY LEG! “Yes! that IS poop,” I confirm. Cannon proceeds to throw the entire poop that he has just deposited in the bathtub OUT of the bathtub. Poor Opal is sitting in the tub with her brother and his poop. So now, I am in my underwear, cleaning poop off the floor and hosing down babies. After I scrub the tub, the floor and the children, I turn to my husband (still in my undies), and ask him if he still thinks this booty is sexy.