Today started out as a pretty good day. Morning trip to the grocery store. While we were out, the stump in our front yard was ground out. (Yeah! Thanks to the Grandpere and Grandmere Amos.) After his AM nap, Little A and I trekked out South side way to Crossroads Coffee and Ice Cream for lunch with Adrian. Little A really enjoys hanging out at Crossroads, sitting on the big cushy sofa, and watching the constant flux of people. He's also pretty sweet on Olivia. We get home from lunch, and I hoist Little A onto my back in the carrier for a brisk jaunt around the neighborhood.
That's where it all went downhill. The walk ending up taking twice as long as expected because I didn't realize that Little A had lost a shoe until we got back to the house. So then we had to trek out and retrace our steps. I found the AWOL shoe, but not until after doing the walk all over again. Little A didn't seem to mind even if he was a little chilly. Mommy on the other hand was worn out and sore about the back and shoulders.
THEN, on the changing table before PM nap, Little A decided to do his best concrete yard fountain imitation and pee all over the floor. And I stepped in it. Yum.
THEN, after those two trying situations, I decide to do some baking because for me, baking is very relaxing, as is ironing. In the combining ingredients process, an egg slipped out of my hand. Natural instinct clicked in, and I attempted to block the falling egg with my leg. Yeah, duh. It cracked all over my thigh and then the floor. Sweeeeeet.
I did bake my cake. Then I laid on my bed and read a magazine until Adrian got home.
Oh and for those of you who care, Little A is now fully weened as of about a week ago. I set out to breastfeed my child for a year and am very happy I was able to accomplish my goal. I can't say I enjoyed every minute of it and certainly am not very sentimental about the whole thing. Yes, it was a neat bonding experience. Yes, he thrived and was a super-healthy infant. But damn, that was some hassle.
The feeding every two hours period was exhausting and frustrating. Pumping was no walk in the park. Then there was the "bitey" phase that thankfully didn't last too long. I never could bring myself to breastfeed in public as I am not one of those women who feels comfortable whipping it out wherever even if it is for a perfectly natural thing as feeding a baby. Closest I ever came to public feeding was in the backseat of the car in a parking lot. Thankfully, Little A never had any issues with taking a bottle.
So I feel blessed to have been able to provide for my child in this way, but damn, I'm glad I am free. Frankly, I don't know how those women who breastfeed into their child's second and third years. My kid's got eight teeth, for crying out loud. That's some serious chafing.
As part of the terms of my breast-feeding release I can now no longer worry about what I do or don't eat. No more counting the hours between a glass of wine and the next feeding/pumping. (Whoo! Party with Amanda!) I can pitch my utilitarian nursing bras and get back into the exciting world of brassieres. I can freely crush my kidneys with coffee and sap the calcium out of my bones with Diet Coke. With abandon.
And the best part is I can now fully engage on starving myself back down to my ultimate Skinny Bitch weight of 134.
Just kidding. About the starving part.