You Wean Some, You Lose Some

Weaning continues, somewhat unsuccessfully.  A few months ago, we had gotten to where he was only nursing at night, mainly to fall asleep.  The problem now is that we’re stuck there.

I can’t get my son to leave my chest alone.  I swear, if he had his way, he’d still be nursing on demand.  Granted, he just felt pretty lousy this weekend.  I get that.  He wanted comfort.  It also doesn’t help that he and I spend 4 out of 7 days of the week together.  The pediatrician has said cold turkey at this point is probably the best, but that’s going to be awful.  There will be screaming. There will be loss of sleep.  And while sleep disruption is nothing new to me, my husband and daughter don’t do so well with that.  What I really need (echoed by the doctor) is to pack my little boy off to some kind of 2-3 night slumber party/booby boot camp where me and the girls are nowhere to be seen.

Charming little s&*t

Charming little s&*t

In the meantime, I’m trying everything under the sun.  I’ve painted myself with lemon juice.  That doesn’t faze him.  I’ve made an effort to wear higher-necked tops so that I’m not exposed like some kind of buffet.  He tugs and tugs at the offending garment.  His latest trick?  He comes up to me, puts his face near my sternum, raps on it with his knuckles, and says “knock knock.”  That’s so damn cute and funny I almost let him have some.

Immediately after this was taken, he began to motorboat my chest

Immediately after this was taken, he began to motorboat my chest

What to do with this boy?!

Vrrooooom.

Vrrooooom.

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About larva225

Working mom. Is there any other kind? Geologist. Nerd.
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5 Responses to You Wean Some, You Lose Some

  1. cabertram says:

    “Knock, knock,” still has me laughing!

  2. That is so funny. I never nursed for that long, but there are women, a little nutty in my estimation, but who am I to say, who nurse their babies until they’re practically in high school. Maybe if you find a food he really likes, you can bribe him. I find bribery a perfectly acceptable parenting technique. So then, every time he knocks on your boobs, you can hand him a mars bar or something. Maybe not a mars bar. You know what I mean.

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