How to soothe a teething baby in a heatwave?  Breastmilk ice-lollies! Numbs their gums, keeps them cool and 100% natural.

Ostentatious prats: Nobody puts baby in a corner.

Once again that old chestnut of breastfeeding in public was in the news with the Claridges debacle and then Farage had to stick his oar in too. I've said  my piece on breastfeeding in public before and my stance remains the same.

I have a long list of words that can describe breastfeeding yet I must say, Mr Farage, ostentatious isn't one of them. Many people often think of breastfeeders as  Those Smug Breastfeeders.  These warped opinions over feeding a baby in the most biologically appropriate way are incredibly misguided and say far more about the person thinking it than it does about a breastfeeder.

It's not about you.  It's really not.  If you don't like it simply stop looking. Babies should be fed anywhere, anytime, anyhow.  I bet nobody asked Mary to feed in a toilet or in a corner or worse....Under a napkin.

If we sit on your knee, waving our naked breasts in your face and then squirt milk in your eyes then yes,  then you can have a valid problem with it.  Otherwise,  walk on by.  Stop staring. Stop trying to be so offended by an inoffensive act .  It's you with the problem. It's you that is sexualising a none sexual act. 

Seriously. Get over yourselves.  Stop being twunts.  Get therapy for your obsession with sexualising breasts who's main biological function is to feed an infant.  Most importantly exercise some self control.  You have a neck, wind it in, move it. ..   stop looking because you're just being creepy.  Seriously.  You have two feet. If you're so threatened by the site of an infant being fed. ... use your feet and walk away.  The majority of the time breastfeeding is discreet,  to have a problem with it you're really looking far too hard which once again is just creepy.

Sort out your rabid hypocrisy.  What is a teat on a bottle if not a replica of a nipple?

Be offended by smoking around children or swearing around them.  Be offended by racism and homophobia.  Be offended by sexist, misogynistic creeps with over inflated opinions over things that don't concern them.

Just don't be offended by a woman trying her hardest to feed her child in the most biologically appropriate way.

Stop being an utter cockwomble.

Moomin has a message for those who ridiculously have a problem with breastfeeding in public.

Review: Monkey Mama Teething/Fiddle Necklace

www.tiarasandprozac.co.uk

I've spent a lot of time nursing.  In total I've nursed for over 7 years.  A lot of baby items I find superfluous and terribly gimmicky and thus refuse to be lured in by their ridiculous beguile.  Other items are just absolutely necessary.  Then there's those items that you never knew you needed until in a sleep deprived frivolous mania you buy one and then wonder why on earth you'd never bought one sooner.

If you're a breastfeeder chances are you've been scratched, pinched and poked by the talons of your vicious spawn mid feed as their wandering paws 'explore' your landscape leading to you exploring the depths of your blue vocabulary.  It's not that they're gits per se... They know not what they do. Honest.   They're just curious little beasts. They're also easily distracted and without something to focus on can become fussy at the best resulting in stretchio-nippleo syndrome (yes, I did just absolutely invent that term) as they attempt to pull away and look at something whilst still in the process of nursing.  Ouch. Sods.

With Thing Two I bought a 'nursing necklace' which was basically a long necklace of lurid plastic beads.  It was supposed to enchant her. It was supposed to entertain her. It was supposed to stop her gouging into tits with itty baby claws .  Yet the only thing it achieved was making me look like a prat.   Even The Dude wouldn't entertain it unless he wasn't feeding and he could wear it.  Much more fun to grab a fistful of my flesh and pinch whilst feeding.  But hey,  it's okay, he stared adoringly into my eyes as he did it.

The only thing that occasionally engaged their hands was a muslin placed between their grappling fist and my ginormo boob of doom.  If the muslin remotely attempted to impart an iota of modesty to us it was ripped off with an angry growl through a suckling mouth full of boob. What can I say?  My kids are proud of feeding and like to show it.

With Moomin being our last ever baby I'm on a mission to try the things I've been curious about.  I've been drawn to the beautiful simplicity of wooden fiddle necklaces for a while.  They're beautiful and wearable. They're understated and tactile.  They don't scream out baby or functional. Then I found the teething necklaces.   Thing Two was rather partial to teething on the leather strap of my Mother's handbag; strange child.  It still bares the teeth marks.   As I'm a babywearer it would be handy to have something always  at hand for Moomin to chomp on with the added bonus of being able to fiddle with it instead of yanking my hair. I bought mine from the lovely Monkey Mama Necklaces.

As soon as it arrived I put it on. It has an adjustable cord so can be worn as a long pendant when nursing for baby to fiddle with or to chomp on when sat on my knee. Worn shorter she can access it when in the sling.  Without a baby it simply looks like a funky necklace.

What can I say?  She loved it.  As soon as her hands began to stray and grab fist fulls of my flesh I'd dangle the pendant near them and she'd grasp it.  She's since fallen asleep several times clutching it tight.  It was invaluable at entertaining her at the recent influx of school performances keeping her occupied in my arms and on my knee as she fiddled and gummed it.  She evidently finds something satisfying and comforting about the tactile nature of the wood and the beads.

The only problem I face now is that as I wear it daily I find myself wanting a selection of them in different styles and colours! 

I highly recommend them regardless of wether you breastfed or babywear as all babies have curious hands and pesky gums. 

You can buy one from Monkey Mama Necklaces.  She makes a variety of fiddle necklaces and teething necklaces varying from natural to subtle to fun and colourful.

***Disclaimer: I received neither payment nor gift for this review.  I bought the necklace myself and was impressed enough to share.  All views and images are my own.

Please note these are not a toy.  These should be worn by an adult and babies and toddlers should be supervised at all times.

www.tiarasandprozac.co.uk

The one about weaning from breastfeeding.

The Preschooler was popping in and out of the house helping The Husband when I hear a blood curdling howl.  Agony or not, I run as does The Husband.  We almost sandwich The Preschooler who's crying his heart out.  He'd trapped his fingers in the door.  Instinctively I scoop him up, perching him half on my hip and half on Moomin bump as I inspect the damage.  Not so long ago, I'd whip out a boob and he'd be near instantly placated.  It's only once you've weaned that you realise what an epic parenting tool breastfeeding was, especially in crisis.  So we soothe and cuddle him as his sobs eventually slow into wet hiccups which gulp at the river of snot and tears.  It doesn't feel enough.  It feels like something is missing.  No matter how tight or close I hold him or how fervently I soothe him, it takes so much longer for our frantic hearts to realign and reach that moment when they're beating together in the symphony of 'Everything is okay. We're okay'  I can't escape the feeling of uselessness, of not being enough.

Thing One was bottle fed, he gave up his bottle spontaneously at around age two.  he just one day decided enough was enough and since that day he'll only drink milk on cereal or if it's chocolate flavoured.

Thing Two was breastfed until she was 2y6m.  This was predominantly child led with a nudge from me seeing as I was ttc, got pregnant and then miscarried.  Considering she was boob junkie, the weaning was remarkably effortless and untraumatic.  She was ready.  In all ways.  Once weaned she never asked for it again nor spoke about it which was surprising considering she was a boob junkie.  Yet she's always been a rather practical and scarily pragmatic.

Then there's The Preschooler.  He was was four in April.  It's only with him that I began to realise that there are many types of weaning from breastfeeding, there's the physical, the mental and the emotional.    It's not simply a matter of shutting up the milk bar, there's a whole host of tangled purposes within breastfeeding other than the obvious nutrition.  He's the opposite in personality to Thing Two, everything is emphasised with him, he's our little diva.  Life seems so much larger and dramatic to him.  He explodes faster and harder be it with happiness, anger or fear and thus finds it especially hard to come back together again.

The physical was out of our hands.  Pregnancy has dried my milk up, despite his best efforts to keep it going.  It got to the point where even that tiny feed at bedtime made me curl my toes and grimace yet he just wasn't ready to stop.  We'd cut down from an hour feed to a thirty minute one to a ten minute one over the months, then it was a quick 'count to ten' which became a count to five.  Sometimes all he needed was that quick suck because it wasn't always about the milk.  It's much much more.  It's security.  It's comfort.  It wasn't so much the milk he needed, he needed the confirmation that if he needed it, he could have it.  It was a connection, a security.  Often when tired, his hands would creep towards my cleavage, just to touch it, just to again, feel that connection.  he found it calming and soothing.

For The Preschooler it wasn't just about hunger or thirst of the physical kind, it also sated an emotional hunger.  When feeding he knew he was 'home', that place in your head where if only for a few minutes the world makes sense and everything is okay.

It helped him calm down be it from tiredness, over stimulation, anger , fear or hurt.  It grounded him.

So yes, we could have simply shut up shop, no more meme's yet through him I've been enlightened into the sheer complexity of a nursing relationship from the perspective of a child.  It's an invaluable parenting tool for a parent.  It's an invaluable dealing with life tool for a child.  He wasn't ready to be weaned, we had to ride the full journey of wean-ing.

It's not just about the milk.

It was never just about the milk.

I was ready for the physical aspect of nursing to be over, as I mentioned previously my milk was drying up.  The actual physical act of nursing was uncomfortable, even painful, and that in turn had an impact on my attitude towards it.  Yet do I miss it?  Absolutely.  Thankfully he understands that the milk is all gone yet still he'll occasionally say in such a solemn little voice 'I wish I could still have meme's' and my heart breaks a little more.  It's no longer an angry or frantic need for it, it's the wistful acceptance and sadness that haunts me.  The fact I can no longer provide something he loved and wanted and on several deeper levels, needed.  It's the mature fashion in which he can talk about something from the past that meant something to him.

I'm grateful though that we had as long as we did and in a way, I'm grateful that something other than him or I instigated the weaning so that it was gradual and necessary rather than one-sided or enforced.

So when weaning, if you're finding it hard or indeed if your nursling is struggling just remember:

It's not just about the milk.

It was never just about the milk.

The act of breastfeeding, to a child is so much more.  It will always be so much more than milk.

It's their sanctuary, their safety net, their anchor and the most rudimentary direct connection they have to their heart i.e you.

Is it any wonder that some children thus find it harder to give up than others?  Even as adults, some of us need that extra bit of comfort in life.

Incidentally, his fingers were fine.  

Breastfeeding in public.

One thing that crops up again and again is the topic breastfeeding in public.  The thing is, I'm not actually sure as to why certain people are so horrifyingly offended by it.

Breasts are biologically there for the function of making and administering the most biologically appropriate form of sustenance for human babies.  That's it.  They aren't a means for the body to excrete waste such as feces or urine, they have the reverse function, to provide nutrients.

It is not a baby's nor a woman's fault breasts have become sexualised and can be viewed as objects illiciting sexual arousal.  Some people get their kicks from feet, should we thus be offended by showing feet?  Shall we ban sandals in summer?  Hands and mouths have more participation in sexual activity than breasts, yet we're not offended by them.  Should we ban using your hands to eat in public because they may have partaken in a sexual act at some point?

It sounds like I'm being ridiculous and deliberately obtuse and perhaps I am, yet the points raised are as valid as being offended by breastfeeding.

Be offended by flagrant usage of profanity or inappropriate public displays of sexual activity, I can understand them but to be offended by breastfeeding?  That I can't understand.

Unless the mother is extremely nervous or new to breastfeeding it is very unlikely that you will see a nipple, which lets be frank is about the only part of a womans chest you don't see every day in this day and age.  If you catch a momentary glimpse of nipple I can guarantee two things 1) The mother will be infinitely more embarrassed than you 2) You're looking way too hard, don't you think that's creepy?

 If you don't like it why are you watching so avidly?  Stop staring.

It's fine to have woman walking around in revealing clothes.  Many parents see no problem in the scantily clad gyrating forms of so-called pop stars emulating sexual acts in their routine and exuding sexuality that that the media expose their children too.  Yet the sight of a woman breastfeeding her child is offensive.

Just think about that a moment.

Some people will go so far as to state it's 'disgusting'.  Breastfeeding has no noticeable smell or sound, takes up no extra space and leaves behind no mess.  What exactly is disgusting about it?I'm genuinely at a loss here.

I could understand if someone tried to breastfeed you or if they sat on your lap to do it, that could be disturbing for you.  I could understand if a woman was fully naked doing it.  I could understand if the streets were lined with breastfeeding woman all blocking your way whilst attempting to lure you into watching or squirting their milk in your face.

Only they're not.

It's just woman feeding their babies.

Here's the thing, you don't have to watch.

Why are you watching anyway?

Then there's the hypocrisy.  Bottle feeding is generally accepted anytime and anywhere.  Rightfully so too. Yet name me the two parts of a baby bottle?  You have the bottle and the teat.  Yes, that would be teat.  Teat as in a replica nipple.  Yet where is the outcry?  There's mothers everywhere and babies themselves flashing around these rubber nipples!  There'd be public stonings if someone wandered around flashing a dildo as in a replica penis.  So why the difference?  Because one is overtly sexual, the other is a biological replica of a breast and nipple fulfilling the function that the breast is designed for.

So why isn't a teat offensive?  Because it's representative of nourishment and sustenance.

Keep that in your mind.  If the replica looks like and functions like the real thing, surely it should follow that there is therefore nothing offensive about a breast and breastfeeding?

If you find a bottle acceptable yet get offended by a breast, that says far more about your mind and it's deviance than it ever will about the breast.

People often come out with the ridiculous comparison and counter argument over the 'But it's natural! a natural bodily function!' statement that urinating, sex and defecating are all natural bodily functions too yet they're not appropriate in public or whilst people are eating.  There is a fundamental difference here that is often neglected.  Breastfeeding is the production and delivering of nourishment yet urination and defecation are the bodies processes of excreting bodily waste.  The latter two are considered and treated as potentially dangerous 'waste products' in hospitals and can be seen as toxic if ingested.  Breastmilk is created to sustain and to be ingested and is treated as a food substance in a hospital setting.  Two entirely different functions.   Entirely different functions.

Would you eat in a toilet?  No?  Why not? 

Yet many would happily direct a mother to feed her infant there.

Would you eat with a blanket over your head?

Yet many insist a mother and baby 'cover up' when feeding.  How about you quit staring or put a blanket over your head?

So why has something with a wealth of benefits for Baby and Mother that is biologically appropriate become such a taboo?

It's not always been this way.

Look at these 25  historical images that normalize breastfeeding.
Look at these 20 iconic religious images of Mother Mary breastfeeding.
Look at these 10 examples of breastfeeding in art history.

Even the law recognises that breastfeeding in public is a right every mother and baby should have and thus legally protects them.  The Equality Act 2010 has made it illegal for anyone to ask a breastfeeding woman to leave a public place such as a cafe, shop or public transport.

In a time when breastfeeding rates are abysmal, surely we should be encouraging woman to do it rather than making them feel like they shouldn't and that it should be hidden away.  Regardless of how a woman chooses to feed her baby she should not face discrimination, prejudice and harassment because of it.  Ever.

Your offense at breastfeeding in public says far more about you than the woman who do it or the act itself.  Get over it.  Get over yourself.  Move along and get on with your day.

"If a woman breastfeeds in public, she isn't making a political statement.  She isn't attention seeking.  She isn't trying to make those who don't breastfeed feel bad or guilty.  She is merely feeding her hungry child.  Yes, it's that simple.   It genuinely isn't about you.  It's about her baby." - Taken from: Those Smug Breastfeeders

The Preschooler

This week is all about change.  At three years and eleven months of age The Preschooler will be leaving my room, we'll no longer be co-sleeping.  The Husband has the mammoth task of rejigging Things One & Two's bedrooms to accommodate this change.  Granted it would make infinitely more sense for The Preschooler to share with Thing One  with them both being the male of the species, however to put it bluntly, they'd tear each other to shreds.

It would also seem that The Preschooler is finally weaning.  For around 6 months now he's been down to just a feed before sleep and occasionally one if he woke, in the morning or if terribly upset.  With pregnancy came a drying up of milk, however this appeared not to deter him.  For the first time since the very beginning I became to resent breastfeeding.  It was irritating, the sensation was unpleasant.  Hell, it even hurt.  There simply is no milk.  However, we got this far and so it needed to be a mutual and slow process.  The past two months or so he's down to a quick feed before sleep, what used to be a long slow feed was limited to a few minutes.  I'd discuss with him that there's no longer any milk there and that my body was now storing it for The Baby.  I'd even explain that it hurt me.  I don't even think he needed or even wanted to feed per se, it was more the knowledge that he could, a security blanket so to speak.  So now, we're down to a very quick count to three before sleep.  It's not even breastfeeding anymore, barely even a latch on yet should I attempt to remove this precious count to three, he goes most apocalyptic.  It's okay, a week ago it was a count to five.  Soon it will be no count at all and just a memory. One i'll never forget and he'll probably never remember.  Nearly four precious years.

So the end of co-sleeping, the end of breastfeeding and I can't even remember the last time he was up in the sling. possibly 6 months ago maybe?  Yet it's all been so gradual, a natural petering out.  Gentle.  The preschooler is growing up.

There are no words to adequately express the bittersweet array of emotions that are poking holes in my eyes threatening to make them leak.  It's a beautiful sadness.  A natural celebration.

So I'll keep the words that I cannot type and instead leave you with some recent Preschoolerisms.

The Black Baby

If you've ever met me you'd know I'm pale enough to sparkle.  The Husband and all three of The Spawn are pale skinned, blonde haired and blue eyed.   We've been married for nearly ten years and together for nearly 14.  I'm rarely seen without The Husband or The Spawn.

So, Imagine the hilarity when one of the Preschool teachers called me over with giggles near bubbling out of her nose as she asked me quietly if i'm 'expecting', to which I reply that yes, yes I am.  She then went on to say that apparently The Preschooler had announced to the class that his Mummy is having a black baby.  Now if The Husband was black that would be understandable or if I was single and had a delicious boyfriend who happened to be black, however you couldn't get a paler family if you tried.  However, there is perhaps a hint of method to his madness as he apparently went on to explain that he'd seen the baby on a screen at the hospital, in mummy's tummy, and it was black.  Bless.  For of course, the 2D ultrasounds do indeed show things in black and grey.  You have to love how literal preschoolers can be.  I admit, I nearly pee'd myself.  It was such a profoundly literal and innocent observation to make.  I wasn't alone,  The Staff themselves were in stitches, finding it so funny that it was documented in his learning log for that day!

The Beard

The Husband finally saw fit to remove his tramp beard, something he grows knowing fully how utterly revolting I find it.  Whilst having a bath with The Preschooler, The preschooler pipes up 'I wish you could have your beard back' and then suggested that The Husband could put a beard back on his face using the beard from his willy.

Moshlings

Thing Two collects Moshlings, something The Preschooler covets.  He's now found a fail safe way to gain them.  Thing Two asked him to hide two of them as part of a game, he obliged.  However, his hiding place was down his underpants.  Thing Two was so utterly horrified that they'd been in contact with a willy that she told him to keep them.  Not happy with plan A, in order to garner more of them he then proceeded to threaten to put them up his bum.  Guess who has the most Moshlings now?

Ch-ch-changes

At the grand old age of three years, nine and a half months The Toddler has had his first ever haircut, yes.... his beautiful golden mane is gone.  There was must rejoicing from The Husband and The Mother who've been campaigning for quite some time for him to lose the locks.  Evidently, despite The Toddlers gender confidence, others weren't so confident and were bothered on his behalf.  However, I stood my ground and refused to give in to a complete crop. 

I'll give him his dues, The Toddler was miraculously unperturbed by the whole event as some stranger in an unfamiliar environment went at his hair with scissors, unlike I who was swallowing copious amounts of rampant hormones and trying not to weep.  The only inkling of a reaction he displayed was being somewhat pissed off every time some rogue hairs landed on the screen of The Husbands phone which he'd been allowed to play upon.

If only the changes for my sweet boy ended there yet alas this year will be full of unstoppable necessities that feel as if they're steam rollering over us.

Last week saw him receiving his MMR, something we delay with The Spawn until they're over 3.5 yrs of age and yet again something he remarkably took in his stride with an indignant 'ouch!' and a mere second of a wibble.  When did my tiny get so grown up and brave?

That leads us to this week, the start of Nursery.  Although eligible for five sessions a week we're only sending him two, again this is how we did it with Things One and Two.  Obviously if he asks he will go more.   This will be a totally alien situation to him.

If only the changes stopped there..... later this year he'll be moving out of my room and co-sleeping and into a room with Thing Two and be totally weaned.  End of August he'll become a Big Brother and come September he'll be in full time school.

Such a big year for my tiny boy.

Those smug breastfeeders

The problem with breastfeeding is, you're damned if you do and you're damned if you don't.  Formula feeders are forever lamenting that they're judged negatively and unfairly, yet I've been a formula feeder and other than online, I never once felt judged in real life, rather I was conforming to what was for all intent purposes the societal 'norm'.  I never felt victimised or scrutinized whilst formula feeding.  I never had to justify my reasoning for formula feeding be it for how long or where.

If you're a breastfeeder people either disagree with it (how can you 'disagree' with feeding your baby the most biologically appropriate food?) or else feel fit to regale you with tales of how and why they don't breastfeed.

Breastfeeding is hard.  It's hard physically at first as well as emotionally and mentally.  It's a work in progress.  A learning curve.  It may be natural and instinctive, yet that doesn't mean it doesn't take an incredible amount of effort, perseverance and dedication  with many practical, societal and cultural obstacles along the way.

If a woman breastfeeds in public, she isn't making a political statement.  She isn't attention seeking.  She isn't trying to make those who don't breastfeed feel bad or guilty.  She is merely feeding her hungry child.  Yes, it's that simple.   It genuinely isn't about you.  It's about her baby.

You've just given birth, you've been asked throughout your pregnancy if you'll breastfeed.  You're coerced into doing it in hospital.  Yet, if you do, do it, if you keep doing it it's then a completely different ball game.  No longer are people obsessed with if you will breastfeed, they're now obsessed with when you'll stop.  you really can't win.

If a breastfeeder is proud of breastfeeding, this doesn't make her smug.  Why shouldn't she be proud?  it's an achievement.

So next time you think of a breastfeeder as being 'one of those smug breastfeeding types' remember, that statement says far more about you than it ever will about her.

Pay To Breastfeed

Seeing as I'm a Mother, a breastfeeder and a blogger it would seem notably absurd of me to not blog about the Governments latest proposed farce, yes, to pay woman to have their tits sucked.  Sort of.

What a load of bollocks.

Breastfeeding rates in England are quite simply abysmal.  Yet there are three types of Mothers; those who breastfeed, those who don't and those who can't.  Although a very small percentage, there do exist some woman who unfortunately can't breastfeed, however the percentage is incredibly lower then we are lead to believe as there are very few breastfeeding problems that can't be eventually remedied.  Generally it's the appalling lack of support and bad advice, yes even from so called medical professionals, that result with a woman being told she's unable to breastfeed.  For example, an anxious mum may feel she doesn't have enough milk yet rather then help her increase her supply or even reassure her that her supply is fine more often than not the 'formula top-ups' are suggested which actually negatively impact on her supply.  A baby feeding all the time? A baby crying? Not getting much milk when you pump?  None of them are indicative that your supply is low.

The main thing that makes for successful breastfeeding is the want to do it.  Seriously.  You have to want to do it.  Feeling you should do it or feeling pressured into doing it won't encourage you to succeed.  Why?  because it bloody sucks at first, if you excuse the pun.  It's hard, it's painful and it's frustrating in the first six weeks.  The only thing that would make any sane person persist is the desire to.  Why endure it if you don't have to and actually don't really want to?

Would £200 make you breastfeed?

More importantly should £200 make you breastfeed?

If a woman chooses to breastfeed there are a multitude of incredible benefits to both baby and mother oh and it's free.  Surely there is a level of morality involved where as to say if a woman wants to breastfeed and is able to it should be for her baby, not for dosh?   However you feed your baby it is your parental obligation and moral responsibility to do so as it is part and parcel of being a parent so should we pay parents to change nappies?  To hold their baby?  To bath their baby?  I think not, so why on earth pay a woman to feed her baby?  It lends a rather seedy and sinister edge to something that should be natural and instinctive.

What about the woman who may have had a double mastectomy due to cancer and can't breastfeed? What about the woman with severe Post Natal Depression and Post Partum Psychosis?  What about the woman who adopted her new born*?  All perfectly valid reasons as to why they can't as opposed to don't breastfeed.  Do they have to just have a  carriage clock and pen instead for not being eligible for the dosh as well as a huge dose of guilt?

There's encouragement and motivation and then there's downright bribery.  This is in effect, the latter, bribery.  They're trying to bribe woman into breastfeeding their child suggesting that woman should/would do anything for money.  As if they don't have enough to deal with when they have a newborn.

If there's money to spare it should be spent on combating the reasons why woman don't breastfeed or why so many give up within the first six weeks.  Motivate woman through knowledge and encourage them through support.

So why don't some woman breastfeed?

It's become an almost alien concept, generations of woman are being brought up with no exposure to breastfeeding and the normality of it.  The fact it's the default option before a choice is made has become lost.  As such an ugly stigma has been attached as the female form has become objectified and over sexualised so that people become embarrassed or downright disgusted at the notion of breastfeeding, of breasts being used in a biologically appropriate way.  Woman are being shamed for doing something that should be as natural as breathing.  Woman are made to feel ashamed at feeding their baby the most nutritiously appropriate food whenever and wherever it is needed.

You've probably heard the ludicrous arguments people have sometimes used such as 'shitting is natural but you don't see me doing it at a restaurant table' or 'sex is instinctive but I'm not allowed to do that on the bus' which is are grossly incomparable. There are no similarities between either example and breastfeeding be it socially, medically or culturally. The former for example is the body excreting waste produce that is offensive in smell and too toxic to ingest whereas breastmilk is the opposite it is replenishing, nourishing and strengthening.  In a hospital setting breastmilk is treated as a food unlike human waste and bodily fluids which are treated as potentially dangerous waste with specific disposal regimes.  I could rant further on the topic of this argument yet Jessica has done it far more in depth and eloquently than I ever could, here.  The fact remains though that it is a common argument and testament to the shocking amount of stigma out there.

Many woman are aware that breastmilk is 'good for baby' yet it's surprising how many woman are unaware of exactly how or why it is the optimal food for babies let alone in how many ways it can benefit them.

Mums are often told 'It will help you lose the baby weight!' for motivation yet are not informed about the several types of cancer it can reduce the risk of amongst many other benefits to the mum.

Whilst being inundated with basic 'how' to breastfeed information, very little is done to fully expose the hard reality of breastfeeding in the first few weeks so that mums can prepare.

There's always been a cultural rush to wean babies with the notion that it's milk or food, when in fact the truth is food should be for fun until they're one with their main source of nutrition coming from milk.  Thus, many mums feel once solids are introduced, breastmilk is unecessary.  This isn't helped with crap anecdotal advice that they should cut down on feeds and if you do that your baby will magically fullfill the societal holy grail if being a 'good baby' and sleep through the night and eat loads.

The normality of breastfeeding has become so lost in society that people no longer know what to think of it, children are shielded from it as if it's obscene rather then being simply told that is a baby being fed by it's mother.

We live in society where woman are judged for not breastfeeding yet unsupported if they do breastfeed.

So, will giving mums £200 to breastfeed help normalise breastfeeding?  Surely if it's normal it shouldn't need rewarding?  Will splashing the cash educate society on breastfeeding?  Will this blatant bribery support mums in breastfeeding? Will this dangling carrot demolish the stigma?

Or is it just another crass attempt to ignore the root of the problem and to push woman into compliance?

If a woman is going to breastfeed, she will.  If she's going to bottle feed, she will.  

If the choice was based purely on money, everyone would breastfeed because formula feeding is expensive (formula, sterilisers, teats, bottles etc etc) which merely highlights the glaringly obvious fact that it's not about money.

The WHO recommend breastfeeding until at least two years of age yet this scheme only aims to reward those that breastfeed for six months once again adding further stigma to extended and natural term breastfeeding inadvertently deeming it unnecessary and undermining its importance and its multitude of benefits.

Regardless, let's bribe woman to be their own babies wet-nurse whilst doing sod all about why so many woman don't breastfeed in the first place.  Lets add financial pressure ,in a time when the economic climate is screwed and everyone is suffering, to new mums because that will help. Many may feel obligated to endure something they don't want to do purely for the money which could negatively impact on their nursing relationship building up potential feelings of resentment, guilt, obligation and entrapment because they're essentially being coerced into doing something they probably wouldn't have done otherwise whilst doing fuck all to challenge and break the hurdles that are responsible for breastfeeding rates being so low to start with.

Fix the cause.  Help woman want to breastfeed.  Help woman succeed in breastfeeding. Fund more midwives and lactational consultants.  Train other medical professionals properly so they don't spout anecdotal crap at mothers in need.  Normalise it again, like it should be.  Tackle the cultural and societal perception. Money isn't going to eradicate the pain, money isn't going to help a baby latch, money isn't going to reassure a mum that she's doing okay, money won't make a woman want to breastfeed or make her like it.

Let mothers decide for themselves.

Then again, that's what they're good at......offering band-aid solutions to manipulate statistics.

Well Mr Government, we're not statistics, we're human beings.  We have choices.  We won't be bought.



* Yes I know some adoptive mothers have successfully induced lactation.

Our Breastfeeding Journey

When I started my parenthood journey the thought of breastfeeding was terribly hideous to me.  I'd never seen breastfeeding, I'd grown up thinking babies were fed from bottles and that it was the done thing.  I was rather adamant that it wasn't for me and thought breastfeeding past the first 6 weeks or so was terribly peculiar.  Throughout pregnancy there was a gargantuan amount of pro-breastfeeding paraphernalia shoved down my throat by health professionals. Thing One was born and showed absolutely no interest in my gargantuan breasts despite the random members of staff tugging, twisting and pulling them towards him at all hours.  I felt like  a piece of manhandled meat and Thing One? He felt mostly tired.  Upon hearing the news I had to stay in hospital until he was feeding I made the decision to formula feed, he gulped it down and grew like a weed.  I never met with any anti-formula stigma at all, apart from online where I was once accused of playing Russian Roulette with Thing One's life and told that formula feeding was as dangerous and irresponsible as not using a car seat.  Seriously.  Poor Thing One was our prototype, torn between instinct and taking so-called advice we stumbled along.

Throughout Thing Two's babyhood, my eyes were opened to breastfeeding through several very good online friends, and one in particular, and it was no longer alien it was beautiful.

 By the time Thing Two was born I was adamant she would bloody well breastfeed, and breastfeed she did, eventually.  Constantly. Day and Night.  Like some pretty leach.  A beautiful limpet.  She was the stereotypical velcro baby.  She was born pissed off and screaming and continued to scream for many months afterwards. Here began our love affair with babywearing.  It was simply essential seeing as she howled at the near sight of the buggy and took it as an absolute tragedy if I dared to put her down somewhere.  I was far too lazy to  express and was paranoid that if she met a bottle it would be the end of breastfeeding.  My goal was six weeks.  Then 6 months.  Then a year.  It kept moving. I remember being so paranoid for the first six months that I couldn't possibly be all she needed that I compulsively got her weighed near enough weekly.  It was a hard step from being ruled by numbers (numbers of scoops, number of ounces, number of feeds) to simply trusting my body and my baby. Eventually she night weaned at two years and six months of age and day weaned at two years and nine months.  One thing I noticed throughout our journey is that despite the immense pressure health professionals put you under to breastfeed, if you do infact do it once you get past six weeks, then six months they actually have no idea what to do or say to you.  Very few of them are versed in either extended breastfeeding or natural term breastfeeding.  Not only do they possess a lack of information they seem to at times spout a ludicrous amount of misinformation with professionalism going out of the window and opinion creeping in.  Opinions from health professionals are a dangerous thing to a vulnerable parent.  You trust them, they're trained professionals thus what they say must be true it's only when you research yourself that you realise it's only opinion they're basing their consultation on and that itself can be a load of old tosh.  The obsession to get you to breastfeed turns into a mission to get you to stop.  You can't win.

That brings us to The Toddler.  There was no question as to how he would be fed.  Despite the initial toe curling adjustment period, we were off.  At the hospital they left me alone figuring that due to Thing Two, I knew what I was doing.  This works for me.  I like to figure things out alone.  The Toddler is, for want of a better word, a boob-junkie.  Totally.  He is now 3.5years old and still feeding day and night.  Although we have cut down considerably in the amount of feeds, he shows no readiness to stop at all and that's okay.  It really is.

Many of us are aware of the benefits that breastfeeding a baby has for both baby and Mother yet there is an assumption that past six months these benefits magically cease to exist despite the WHO's recommendations for breastfeeding to at least two years of age.

The Academy of Breastfeeding Medicine affirms breastfeeding beyond infancy as the biological norm. “The average age at weaning ranges anywhere from six months to five years… Claims that breastfeeding beyond infancy is harmful to mother or infant have absolutely no medical or scientific basis,” says Arthur Eidelman, MD, president of the Academy of Breastfeeding Medicine.  “Indeed, the more salient issue is the damage caused by modern practices of premature weaning.”  The global organization of physicians further notes that“Human milk contains nutrients, antibodies, and immune-modulating substances that are not present in infant formula or cow’s milk. Longer breastfeeding duration is further associated with reduced maternal risks of breast cancer, ovarian cancer, diabetes, hypertension, obesity, and heart attack.” (ABM 2012) 

Obviously I'm incredibly pro-breastfeeding however that doesn't make me anti-formula, I've been a formula feeder too and guess what?  It's not powdered poison or the devils piss and I have a beautiful nine year old Thing One who drank it for two years.  Yet even when formula feeding it is important to accept the fact, without getting offended or defensive that in the majority of cases, there is nothing wrong with formula feeding but it isn't the optimal and biologically appropriate feeding method for your infant, it is a substitute.  However you choose to feed your baby, make sure it's an informed choice.

On being a Co-Sleeper

“At some point in the night, a small sigh punctuates the darkness as her perfect hands knead and fetter upon my spine. I shift feeling her warmth, a jig-saw perfect fit as she completes me. Turning towards her, nimble fingers grab and need against me until she finds her bounty and settles into the slow rhythmic suckle of a midnight snack. Her perfection is like pure sunshine glittering on to the night. I love her. I tell her so. I tell her again in tender whispers. She murmurs back. She loves me too.

I still love her two hours later, and two hours after that. I just don’t like her as much those times.

I lay adrift in the night with only the digital display of the alarm clock for light as it mocks the passing of my life minute by minute. I fade into the lullaby of her breaths and wait for sleep or morning, which ever claims me first.
I should miss The Husband in my bed but I think I’d miss The Baby more. He shall share my bed until we’re creaking and old, until we sleep and do not wake and she shall share my bed until she sleeps through the night finally or drives me utterly insane, whichever comes first.” – - -

Taken from In the Still of the Night.

I’m tired. Bone tired.  Hell, lets go one better, I’m soul tired.  Yet I could be tireder (yes, I made that word

up).  Yes, The Toddler (I do realise I'm rather stretching the term Toddler here) still doesn't sleep through at 42 months, something that would appear to be more of a problem to other people than it is to me.  Yes, he still breastfeeds rather frequently including at times through the night.  Yes he’s still sleeping in my room, and golly gosh, even at times in my bed.  

Truth be told he’s always slept with me.  It just works.  He wakes and demands feeding, I roll over flop a boob in his general direction (yes flop, I know, forgive me for getting terribly technical) with my eyes still mostly closed whilst he fills his boots then with any luck rolls back over and goes to bloody sleep.  I could be getting out of bed all cold and wobbly from lack of sleep and stumble out of the room whilst he gets increasingly agitated and across the landing to settle him in another room, but evidently these huge metal rods I've made for my own back make it too hard to stand and walk…no wait….they allow me to stay nice and warm and snuggly in bed and save The Toddler getting unnecessarily upset.  Not to mention it has been vital to us when he's had breathing issues related to asthma, to know that my breathing is regulating his and I can keep an eagle eye on him throughout the night should he deteriorate.

In 2005, McKenna and Thomas McDade published a peer reviewed article called “Why babies should never sleep alone” in the journal Paediatric Respiratory Reviews (No. 6, 134-152) McKenna & McDade explain that baby primates are not meant to be isolated, and when they are, their lungs are likely to shriek out a protest: 

The emotional responses by infants and children
to resist parental isolation by crying and protesting are
probably innate and adaptive, since separation from the
caregiver most certainly meant rapid death for infants and
children in the environments within which childhood sleep
and emotions evolved.

But co-sleeping is like, dangerous! Babies can you know, die.

Right?

After all that’s what the tabloids tell us, so it must be true.  Even medical professionals are scare mongering and demonising an act which is actually biologically appropriate and when done safely can half the instances of SIDS.  They don’t tell you that bit though.  It’s also plays a rather significant roll in successful and extended breastfeeding, something that becomes terribly easier once you've learnt to do it lying down.

As  McKenna & McDade also explained in their paeiactric respiratory review:

"The general hypothesis that co-sleeping (at least in the
form of a committed caregiver’s proximity i.e,. roomsharing)
reduces SIDS among some SIDS prone infants is confirmed
by studies showing that roomsharing in the presence of an
active caregiver saves lives."

Saves lives, directly contradicting the general advice that co-sleeping is the devils work. 

There are different kinds of co-sleeping however and yet they lump them all together under a big ‘Don’t do it!’ sign.  The thing is though, people are going to do it regardless.  Many of them will do it without actually knowing that’s what they’re doing as they are too busy trying not to do it.  I've lost you there haven’t I? Stay with me, let me explain.  It’s the days of a new-born, who like a new-born should, wakes constantly and feeds a lot, cluster feeds.  Somewhere in mum’s mind she thinks how much easier it would be if she didn't have to get out of bed and get baby out of their cot to settle them but it stays in the back of her mind because we must not co-sleep.  The Health Visitor told us so.  The leaflets and posters told us not to.  The newspapers told us not to. Shut up an begone mothers instinct, you obviously know nothing. So she’s tired, close to tears tired, we've all been there.  Baby is crying, it feels like that’s all they do, constantly.  As soon as you put them back down, their  ‘I’m not attached to mummy’ radar goes off and with it their siren like wail.  So you sit in a chair with them or lie on the sofa with them whilst they sleep and inevitably nod off with them.  It’s okay though, it’s not a bed so you’re being good and not co-sleeping.  Only that is co-sleeping the only difference is if they were in a bed it would be infinitely safer.

Trying to discourage all co-sleeping practices because of co-sleeping mal-practises is like banning babies from travelling in cars because once a parent somewhere got drunk, didn't strap baby in a car seat and went for a drive.  Really, it’s that ridiculous.

There are some really simple rules to follow to make co-sleeping safe:

1)      Never ever sleep on a sofa/chair with baby.

2)      Don’t co sleep if you smoke

3)      Don’t co sleep if you've consumed alcohol

4)      Don’t co sleep if you've taken recreational drugs

5)      Don’t co-sleep if you are taking prescription drugs that make you drowsy or desensitise you.

6)      Don’t let baby use a pillow if under 12 months of age

7)      Don’t let a baby under 12 months share your duvet etc

The fact is, parents are going to co-sleep in one form or another at some point whether they mean to or even realise it’s what they’re doing yet sadly because of the demonization of it, not all of them will do it safely.  They're too busy hiding the fact they do it and absurdly feel shameful for doing something so utterly socially forbidden that they never seek advice on how to do it safely. That’s when we get the headlines of baby deaths ‘caused’ by co-sleeping. Note the ‘co-sleeping’ not bed sharing.  Bed sharing is a type of co-sleeping.  Often if you look deeper into the headlines you’ll find they weren't in a bed or the parent was inebriated or a smoker all absolute no-no's in co-sleeping safety.

Surely if it’s going to happen anyway we should work harder on educating on how to do it safely rather than scare mongering?  Knowledge is power.  Knowledge is safety.

But nah, because that would surely turn us all into raving hippies who weave our own knickers from lentils and braid our under arm hair.

One of the most valuable parenting tools we have is instinct, something which the media seems to be intent on beating into submission.  It's natural to feel attached to your infant, you're supposed to be (obviously there are exceptions to this such as PND which can repress instincts etc).  How many parents put their infant to bed and turn on the monitor just to feel connected to their baby?  Then routinely peek in to check on them throughout the evening and the night? Something inside you is letting you know you need to be close to them. Baby awakes and cries because you're not there, instinctively baby needs you to be there.

In countries like Japan where co-sleeping and breastfeeding are the cultural norm (and the lack of maternal smoking) SIDS rates are one of the lowest in the world.  Other countries who practice ecological nurturing don’t even have a word for SIDS as the instances of it are that low.

I could be an awful blog bore and not only stand on my little tie-dyed soapbox but could also dance on it too and dazzle you with the science like how co-sleeping actually stimulates babies own breathing patterns and heart functions as well as reducing their stress levels and regale you with all the benefits on physical, emotional and mental health for baby and parent.  I trust you though, we all know how to google-fu and just in case you’re sat there on a caffeine drip with a screaming baby playing nipple cripple on your tits I’ll even share a few links that make interesting reading:

http://www.marksdailyapple.com/co-sleeping-risks-benefits/#axzz2hUqqEs8Z

http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/families/article2115373.ece

http://neuroanthropology.net/2008/12/21/cosleeping-and-biological-imperatives-why-human-babies-do-not-and-should-not-sleep-alone/

Granted co-sleeping isn't for everyone, yet you can co-sleep without bed sharing. Even simply room-sharing has benefits and you can buy side car style cots, whatever floats your boat.

But what about the nooooookie?   

Firstly, you’re having sex? Just so we’re clear, I actually quite liked you up until now.  Seriously though, be creative….you have a whole home, use it. 

For what it’s worth Thing Two shared my room from birth until around 3.5 years and the transition into her own room? Effortless and absolutely painless.  Damn, where’s that rod gone?

Granted it's not without problems, such as him hogging my side of the bed should I dare escape for wee and arguing over which one of my pillows he wants to pinch.  Git.

Obviously it's not for everyone, if the thought of doing it makes you hyperventilate with worry, then don't do it.  It's supposed to lower stress levels not increase them.  However, should you want to do it, follow the guidelines of safe co-sleeping and enjoy.  Trust your instinct.

Why I'm still breastfeeding at 3.5

The Toddler is demanding 'meemee', again.  I'm trying to ignore it having calmly told him several times that he can have a cuddle/snack/bmw/vodka/pony instead, however he's now venomously shouting it in my face, you know, just in case I'm deaf as well as stubborn.'Meemee' is his obscure yet quaint self named word for boobs, which I suppose is somewhat more tolerable in public than Thing Two's screams for 'BOOBIES' though not as humorous.  Obviously Thing Two doesn't do that now, what with her being seven and having weaned at 2y9m.  The Toddler is 41.5 months old now and would still breastfeed 24/7 if access was allowed. There's so much that is misunderstood about extended breastfeeding.  On an average day he will feed in bed upon waking (yes we still co-sleep too, such a shame I can't weave...what with my abundance of lentils) for up to an hour depending on the time and how long I'm attempting to delay getting out of bed.  He'll then mostly be distracted when asking during the day with offers of snacks instead, or his favourate....icepops.  Sometimes in the afternoon we'll have a long snuggle on the sofa and he'll feed then it's again at bedtime.  He's been frightfully close to night weaning several times now with us agreeing before bed on no meemee's during the night, only cuddles.  Often this will work.  If he demands I persist with the 'no' yet should his anger turn to distress, I give in.  It's not that I'm a soft touch it's just I have to consider the rest of the household who're trying to sleep and the fact that regardless of why, if he needs the security of a sleepy feed rather than simply wanting it, it's my job as a mother to meet that need.  Besides, sometimes it really is anything for a quiet life.  Generally he's quite good at the count to five rule and at most it's down to 1-2 night feeds at most.  Although I'll readily admit at times the idea of night weaning the little sleep assassin is awfully tempting yet the fact remains, he's simply not ready and I respect that. It's not just about the physical nutrition, it's the emotional nutrition too. When they are ready, it's relatively effortless and trauma free.  That's how I want it to be, that's how weaning should be.

Until recently he's had a good  run at night, then he became ill, again.  It all goes back to the start when he's ill as he reverts to feeding constantly once more.  The milkbar becomes open all hours. However, as any parent will know it's awful seeing your child suffer and feeling so helpless being unable to alleviate their pain and misery.  One thing I can do is let him nurse on demand at these times.  It gives him the comfort he craves, keeps up his fluid levels and helps his immune system.  For you see, when The Toddler gets ill, he gets really ill.  He caught Thing Twos cough and cold, it sounds average enough yet whenever he gets ill like that, he goes downhill...quickly.  The year before last he must have had about 4 or 5 trips to A&E with a need for nebuliser and steroids.  Ghastly, frightening times. So it's a blessing to keep him close, even if it means staying awake throughout the night in a state of torment and paranoia, attempting to administer ventolin without him waking whilst constantly counting his breaths per minute just waiting for that moment when you know he has to be seen by a doctor.  It's like being on a knife edge not knowing whether he'll perk up or slip quickly downhill.  Thankfully this time, he turned a corner and started to perk up with just ventolin and plenty of breastfeeds.  I genuinely dread to think how we'd cope if he wasn't sleeping right next to me. However, it does mean we're back to square one again, with the night feeds, again.  Yet as I lie in the still of the night I learn to cherish these moments, because they won't last forever.  He needs this, he needs me.  I am his. I couldn't withhold something he evidently needs from me even if my life depended on it.

Did I think I'd still be breastfeeding him at 3.5? No. Do I love it? rarely. Do I hate it? sometimes (especially when the painters are in) Time is ticking, maybe once he turns four if he hasn't self weaned I may give weaning a gentle push.

However often it feels like history is repeating as just like with Thing Two sometimes I'll say no and he won't accept it, the anger turns to distress and I give in which in turn makes the initial no seem pointless.  It's like I made him cry, for nothing.  Still sometimes, it's good to separate want from need and act accordingly.

Am I looking forward to the eventual weaning? Absolutely! Will I miss it? Undeniably (sometimes!)

The Toddler

Because it's been a while and they're so small for such a remarkably heart breaking short amount of time within which they undergo so many changes and really do light up our days, I figured it was about time for another post dedicated to him.

I suppose technically he's The Preschooler now what with him turning three, yes three, next month.  Excuse me whilst I weep.  No really.  Seeing as The Husband is most clear in his 'No more babies' line, The Toddler is my last beloved little person and I find the dramatic pace at which he's growing up terribly alarming whilst my womb positively wails 'please sir, can we have some more?'

Next month he will be three.  So far we've been breastfeeding for 35 months.  He's not worn any kind of nappy for around seven months now (he pee's at the toilet, standing on his tippee toes!, In an absurd way it's incredibly cute).  He still doesn't sleep through.  We still co-sleep.  He talks more and more every day, we understand about 75% of it, he often has to resort to charades to enlighten us with his insights and demands.  He is undeniably friendly and incredibly polite, not a door opened for us goes without him chirping 'thank-you!' He has a rather extensive and amusing amount of quirky idiosyncrasies already.  He genuinely is a beautiful, charming, funny, sarcastic little sunbeam.

A few toddlerisms from him lately:

Whilst we were out and about and he was as usual in the Wompat on my back, we could hear the noisy chorus of birds around us to which he repeatedly shouted with increasing irritation 'SHUT UP TWEET TWEETS! SHUT UP!'

The day before this whilst once again high up on my back in the sling we caught him trying to physically reach up and pluck an aeroplane from the sky.  Bless.

Just last night, at bedtime, The Husband was lovingly trying to read another book to him when The Toddler shut it half way and declared 'The End' followed by 'Get bent **** (He still refuses to call him Daddy/Dad and insists on always calling The Husband by his first name.  He's always done this) Go away.' Charming!

He is still insistent on foraging for his own food and frequently raids the cupboards and even drags his little stool in the kitchen on the sly so he can raid the fridge which often results in me finding little gems like this in the fridge.....

Whilst chatting about his upcoming birthday:

Me to h: 'what do you want for your birthday?'
The Toddler: 'Robot!'
Me: 'anything else?'The Toddler: 'Chocolate cake!!!!'Me: 'anything else?'The Toddler: 'Doughnuts!'Me: 'okay, anything else?'The Toddler: 'A cow.'[pause]The Toddler: 'and a clipclop!!!'Okay, that's that sorted then.....

He still adores dressing up, twirling in tutu's, rolling his eyes at you in complete disdain and attempting to control Things 1 & 2.  He frequently calls out for 'elf rescue!' and is fabulous at fighting The Husband should he dare to bug me.

Best go, he's just tried to cover up his intrusion on Things 1& 2 upstairs with a rather sweet 'Goodbye my friends! My best friends!' as he zooms down the stairs at 80mph on his arse.

Milk Monster

The week isn't by any means over yet and so far it started with The Dog eating Thing Two's sausage roll that was lunch-box bound before school resulting in an impromptu trek to the super market and then to school to drop of a replacement lunch and last night I had to call out a paramedic for The Husband who was having an asthma attack.  In between all that we've got Thing One who's practicing being a vile teenager five years early with utter insolence and sheer obtuseness and The Toddler who has apparently banned all forms of sleep for himself and thus me.  Not to forget The Husband having to rush to school, following a drama-whorish call saying Thing Two was frightfully distressed and in considerable pain due to a toe nail apparently hanging off and could he possibly go there with some nail scissors to 'see what you can do'.  He was in a terrifically bad mood due to suffering from a migraine and had been somewhat of a total twunt so needless to say he was rather bemused to find Thing Two happily sat in her classroom, barefoot, having her lunch with her teacher.  One corner of a toe nail had been digging in to her toe. That was all.  I would have gone myself but I had the time critical task of supervising brownies baking in the oven. Shame.

The Toddler has near completed his training as The Sanity Assassin and having rather cleverly lulled me into a false sense of security at night deciding to do the absolutely unheard of and sleep for 5 hours straight only to then spend the past 5-7 days waking every 60-120 minutes and feeding fervently like a newborn, yes, at 31.5 months of age.  I'm so abysmally tired that my eyes feel like spinning metal balls in their sockets and my limbs feel like concrete blocks of pain.  Add this to the creeping onslaught of yet another M.E trough coupled with an accelerated dip in mood i'm rather more bits then pieces.

There is 'well you could night wean him' road to wander down yet unfortunately he is simply not ready.  You just 'know' when they are and it's untraumatic and surprisingly easy (see also potty training etc etc).  I actually have no qualms with a waking or two during the night and a quick boobie snack with added snuggles, however I do become considerably grumpsome when it becomes every 60-120 minutes, as you would.  We've tried the counting up to ten method which is what worked when Thing Two was a toddler and indeed The Toddler is on occasion been known to be somewhat amenable to this idea, which is nice.  It also proves our suspicions that he indeed absolutely understands the proposal.  However, more oft then not lately he'll simply shake his head and mumble around a mouthful of boob 'no'.  If I try and subtly remove said boob then well...all hell breaks loose.  Arse.

There is a possibility that he's still teething, again.  For now i'll go with that idea with it being terrifically more endearing then the alternative 'he hates me'

So for now he shall remain, the boob junkie boobie monster.

It has taken me several days to write this.  The Husband is now en route to Austria and i'm home, alone, avec The Spawn, and I have no chocolate.  This could get messy.  Thankfully The Grandparents are coming to my rescue and having Things One & Two for the night.  They're all currently in the bathroom (The Spawn, not The GrandParents) as The Toddler fights them for the bog.  I'm best off not knowing really.  I'm pretending to ignore the arguments and the 'MuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuM!!!!!!' calls.  Is it vodka o clock yet?  Oh Bollocks. I'm practicing neglect by hiding behind the laptop.  Tomorrow i'll be all smiles and weave lentils with them.  Honest.