Uncharitable thoughts
My underwire is inconveniencing you? I'm so sorry. But hey, you know what, your entire self insisting on being attached to my breast for as long as it might take you to fall asleep tonight, which is evidently going to be a long, long, time, is inconveniencing me too. My last respectable nursing bra is biting the dust and I really really don't want to spend good money on another one when their days are so (so, so) numbered, but lying down to get you to sleep in a regular bra, with its underwires all up in my face and poking me under the chin, is not much fun for me either.
Oh dear, my arm is not positioned just so to cushion your head while you nurse to sleep? Well it's not made of rubber, so it doesn't bend that way, and also I have other things to do than just lie here being your plaything for half the night, I have foam pool noodles to turn into lightsabres for your brother's birthday party tomorrow.
You are disappointed to wake and not find me exactly where you left me? Well, I'm disappointed to hear you wake, because I have the stomach flu and it's really rather gross and I haven't eaten a thing that's not banana for two days so I may be a tiny bit grumpy, but excuse me if you find me less than sympathetic when you bounce up in bed at 3.30 am and tell me you're hungry, because you were offered a full and nutritious dinner, while all I had was a bowl of cereal, gingerly, afraid of repercussions.
You want to sit up and have the big side? Again? And I seem less than forthcoming? I roll onto my front and tell you to go and find Daddy?
Must be morning.
Labels: extended nursing, internal monologue, sick adults
posted by Maud @ 8:15 PM
4 Comments
4 Comments:
Thoughts like this is when I decided to force the issue with weaning. I decided that it out be better for our collective mental health if A went through a short term disappointment than if I continued after I had seriously began to resent it and it was start to leak into resenting her.
Well, we are on the slow train to no more booboo; but last night was just particularly tedious because I was sick as well and they can sense weakness, you know...
Sadly, I have conversations like this in my head pretty much every night. Around 3am because she STILL doesn't sleep through. : (
Aaaand now she is screaming because she just whacked herself in the face. With her own hand. Bye!
These are precisely the thoughts that made me hit the breaking point with my son (3 1/2) two weeks ago. JUST COULDN'T STAND IT ANYMORE. In fact, the same thing happened with my older son (at 2 1/2), though he essentially weaned himself when he gave up napping and became a sounder sleeper at night. And odd benefit is that I was--and will be, when the current weaning process is complete--thrilled to be done with nursing. I had imagined it would be almost unbearably wrenching, but protracting it to the point of irritation makes it easier to avoid maudlin nostalgia.
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