I have a confession to make. Pictures of breast milk gross me out. I'm a member of a first time mom group and one of the moms posted a picture of her milk and I didn't like it. I don't really like milk at all, so I would likely have the same reaction to milk of the bovine persuasion. I can't even drink milk without thinking the word "pus" which automatically makes me put it down. Milk is gross.
That said, I am 12 days away from my goal of breastfeeding Hamburglar for one year. I was so focused on meeting this goal, I kind of neglected to research how to stop. Just like when I was pregnant, I was so focused on being pregnant, that I kind of forgot about the delivery aspect until it was looming. I mean, I know I can't quit breastfeeding cold turkey because that would just lead to mastitis or a plugged duct or something. It seems like he's just kind of naturally eating less and less milk as time goes on, but I don't know.
I've read that you just cut out feedings here and there to wean a baby from the breast. Like, one every three days. But this is all so new and weird. I'm excited to have my body back. And I am proud that I have gone this far and not had to supplement with formula at all.
There were times when I thought I may have to. And two nights ago Mr. Adventure suggested we start giving him formula at night when he wakes up hungry. I just looked at him and asked why he doesn't want me to reach my goal? Sure, I was overreacting and whatnot. But at least I didn't start crying. Which is probably what would have happened a couple of months ago.
We go see Dr. Soulpatch on the 19th and I figure I can ask him all my questions about quitting breastfeeding then. Like: do I give him something else? Like cow milk or donkey milk or something? What are you supposed to feed/hydrate a baby with during that weird in-between baby and child stage? What should I dress Hamburglar as for Halloween: Alex from A Clockwork Orange or the Chucky doll from the movies?
Only the important questions, of course.
With Hamburglar's birthday party right just 8 days away, we need to get the house cleaned and yard ready this weekend. I used this rad website called ipiccy.com to convert pictures of Hamburglar into coloring sheets for his party. Mr. Adventure called me a narcissist. I am neither affirming nor denying this claim. I still need to figure out what to put in the pinata. Maybe liquor bottles for the grown ups and crayons and bouncy balls for the kids?
Chumbercules is no longer walking. Now he is running. Yesterday, he covered his eyes and ran across the living room, tripped over a toy, fell and started laughing hysterically. That's my boy.
He also says the word "hat" while touching his head. Sometimes it is a question. Sometimes a statement. Always the word hat. No matter the situation. It's pretty cute. So, I have determined that he needs all the hats in the world for his birthday.
In dad/brain tumor news: It is cancer. It's called plasmacytoma, a marrow cancer, and those have a really good rate of being treated with radiation therapy. They're keeping him in Utah for at least another week at the Huntsman cancer center, which is allegedly very good.