He’s nursing like there’s no tomorrow. Like he has to get it all in now, because it’s going away. Which is accurate, actually. I’m finding more and more that I don’t want to nurse. I don’t want to be trapped in a chair, nursing for hours. Not anymore. I’ve gone for twenty months, longer than I had ever expected to. My original goal was a year. I’m going to be lucky if he stops before he’s five. And the more impatient I get, the more I try to wean him, the harder it gets – he follows me around the house crying, asks to nurse every ten minutes. It’s a complete catch 22 – the more I don’t want to do it, the more desperately he needs to.
My new theory is that if I just let him nurse as much and as often as he wants, maybe he’ll ease off a bit. He’s actually sleeping, he nursed down to sleep at twenty after ten, which is ridiculously early. Maybe he’s teething.
Again – have to state for the record how much I really LOVE staying home with the kids. On days like this, when Sam just wants to nurse 24/7, and nap two hours early – he can. No problems… Jess can run around with her hair not done, still in jammies, it’s cool – no pressure here. They can just be kids – with no schedule or committments or things they have to do. I love it.
Other than the nursing irritation, my day is going wonderfully well. I’m decluttering – I tend to save crap I don’t need, and it piles up all over the house. I organized the silverware drawer, adn am working on cleaning off the television, the bookshelf, and the ugly brown thing. Nothing feels better than throwing things out – which is why I don’t understand why I only do it once or twice a month š
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