Saying goodbye to my two friends

Okay. So if you really don't want to read about my thoughts on breastfeeding, then I'm giving you fair warning to stop reading this right now. Seriously. Right. Now.


I'm in mourning. My body has naturally weaned Carlos from breastfeeding. I was really trying to make it one full year but my boobs said NO MORE!!! I'm the type of person who once I have a goal in mind, I fully intend to committ to it and achieve it. So the fact that my body has gone behind my back and shut down the milk factory before I was mentally prepared really gets on my nerves. It all started in April when I could not get Carlos to sleep for more than 3 hours and it dawned on me that I wasn't producing as much as before. I tried to pump more, tried to feed him more and made sure I was drinking enough water but nope...it just slowed down. I know I could have tried some supplements but my mind just rationalized that Carlos would be one in just two months, so I should go ahead and start to wean him. But I just hate listening to my mind when my heart is kicking and screaming, not wanting to have this come to an end. Again, if I could have another baby, this wouldn't bother me so much but I'm not going to have another one. I'm not going to have this closeness ever again. It is just another slap in my face that this period of my life is over. Now, don't misunderstand me, I'm not the type of mommy who wants my toddler walking up to me asking for mid afternoon snack (if you know what I mean). That just doesn't sit well with me, personally. I guess I'm just trying to hold on to Carlos being an infant- a baby- for as long as possible. And I take great pride in the fact that I, ME, was solely responsible for his nourishment. I worked hard for it. It's not easy. That bonding, well, I just can't come up with the words to describe how beautiful it is. Now Carlos gets so excited when he sees a bottle. Boo.
And let's just discuss the physical sacrifices that I'm experiencing now that I'm no longer a member of La Leche League. Boo for having to buy smaller bras. Boo for my shirts not filling out anymore. Somebody find me a plastic surgeon. I miss my two friends.

Cheerios, Bananas and Mango- OH MY!!!

Soooo, where have I been?- you may ask. Let me tell you. I haven't been missing in some remote country nor have I been hiding under a rock. I've been stuck in the kitchen, cleaning the high chair. Yes, the high chair has taken up every single free moment of my time. Sweet Carlos has been eating cereal and Gerbers for about 5 months now and as long as I control the spoon all is good. But now that I have been introducing adult food to him, I have been sweeping, wiping, scrubbing, scraping every nook and cranny of the high chair. Breakfast, lunch and dinner have become the most dreaded part of my day because I know that me and that high chair are going to battle it out. Where, oh, where am I going to find hidden bits of chewed up tortilla or squished green beans? Those friendly, round Cheerios look so innocent and fun as Carlos picks them up and places them into his little mouth but no, not so much when I am scraping dried Cheerios off the floor. And just when I think that I have picked up each Cheerio, swept and mopped the floor, just as I walk away, there it is.... the sound that makes tears come to my eyes. CRRRRUUUUUNCCCCCHHHHH! I always manage to step on the ONE Cheerio that escaped my broom and mop. And don't even get me started on the slippery food... the banana, avacado, sweet potato and Carlos' favorite- mango. Eww-you think it feels gross to touch and handle fresh- just imagine what it's like to pick up and dig out mashed, slimey, hours old banana out from under the high chair cover. You know, I look at my youngest love as he sits in his high chair covered in whatever happened to be on the menu and I think to myself- SURELY, this is the messiest one yet. SURELY, Sophia and Diego were no where near as messy as Carlos. Then I started to look at some old pics and there it was...proof that Sophia and Diego did their share of making a mess. And I think to myself- in 7 to 10 years, when all three of them can make their own lunch and clean up after themselves, I'm going to be able to sit on the couch and watch TV without having to worry about cleaning that blasted high chair. But then, by then, (and probably WAY before then) I'm just going to miss dearly the time when I had a baby in the house whose food-smeared face smiled at me from above the tray of a messy high chair. I'm going tear up at the memory of wiping applesauce from between tiny, chubby fingers. My heart will ache when I realize that I don't have a baby to sit in the tub to scrub out peaches and pears from his soft hair. So take a look at my three babies at their best... Sophia at 9 months

Diego at 17 months

Carlos at 11 months