Poor boy: or, a post of absolutely NO interest to anyone other than my mom and maybe Sharon, Amber and Emily. Because they like me. And they are moms.

The Tyrant, after 2 and 1/2 years and one month, has finally been laid low. By something or other, presumably a virus of some sort.

I had just managed to get myself tucked up in bed when he threw up for the first time ever.

Poor boy.

And then it happend again. And again. And again.  Five times all total and each time we’d get up, get him changed (we gave up brushing his teeth after the second event), get the bed changed and get back to sleep only to have him repeat the whole process yet again. By the 4th time it came to me that I should probably have a bucket of some sort. So Number Five went into the bucket and that was the last one of the night.

He threw up three more times today and now is sleeping and has gone about 4 hours without hurling so I’m fervently praying that this is only a 24 hour bug, not a 48 hour one.

24 hours is  a long time with a sick little one. One’s day is  marked by

the smell of sour milk

“BUCKET!”

“You think he’s ok, don’t you?”

checking little heads every so often

I’m keeping vigil over his bedside tonight. After the ENORMOUS pile of laundry including most of our blankets, all the flannel sheets, all of Miles’s jammies and most of my sweaters, I am determined to catch everything I can in the Bucket tonight!

He rallied briefly this afternoon but for the most part we’ve done a lot of laying on the sofa listening to music and extended napping/nursing sessions.  The milk doesn’t stay down but it probably stays down  long enough to get his body a little of what it needs to absorb, anyway, since breastmilk is so rapidly and easily digested.

Thank you to the four of you who have listened to my little tale of Miles’s First Illness.  Hopefully I’ll have nothing new to report tomorrow, other than a Bucket-free night.

Request #217.1a

If Mrs Fussy Crankypants has been nursing her toddler and If she comes back to the dinner table, particularly if she comes back to the dinner table at which her in-laws are also attending, and If you  notice any kind of garment issue, please, PLEASE mention it at once instead of letting her sit through the rest of dinner looking like she doesn’t know how to button necessary buttons.

Thank you.

Nursing my Toddler

Stages of Nursing

When I was nursing the infant TT, we would often connect by gazing into each other’s eyes as I held him close, safe and secure next to me, warm and cozy, as he enjoyed his sweet, warm drink.

Now that he is a toddler, an active little curly-headed boy, he can ask for milk when he wants, which is frequently.

“Milk, pease”, he says.

“Ok,” I answer, as I head for our chair.

He skips ahead of me, dancing with anticipation, climbing up on the chair ahead of me, his excited giggle betraying to me just how very much this means to him, these few minutes that we sit together, as I hold him close, safe and secure next to me, warm and cozy, as he enjoys his sweet, warm drink.

(Sometimes he even says “yum-yum”, which makes me laugh.)

But it is the giggle that gets me. It bubbles up and out; he is clearly so excited about getting milk that he can’t contain it.  I just love it.  And him. And I’m so grateful we’ve been able to nurse as long as we have been.

Keepin’ It Real

For all the men who have been erroneously trained to believe that breasts were created for their pleasure:

The breast is a secretory gland composed of the following parts:

glandular tissue, which makes and transports milk,
connective tissue, which supports the breast
blood, which nourishes the breast tissue and provides the nutrients needed to make milk,
lymph, which removes waste,
nerves, which make the breast sensitive to touch and allow the baby’s suck to stimulate the release of hormones that trigger the let-down or milk-ejection reflex and the production of milk,
adipose (fatty) tissue, which offers protection from injury

The size of the breasts is determined to a great extent by the amount of fatty tissue present, which has no effect on milk production or the quality of the milk produced.

The enlargment of the breasts during pregnancy and lactation normally indicates that the mammary gland is becoming functional, although breast growth continues for the first month after birth.

 

Sorry, guys. It’s not all about you after all.

Thursday’s Child

Thursday’s Child didn’t care that I couldn’t find where I was going.

He didn’t care that I couldn’t find parking, that not being able to find parking made me cry.

He didn’t care that I didn’t have cash when we finally got to the ticket kiosk and that they didn’t take credit cards. which also made me cry.

He cared about:

getting down

playing in the water fountain

watching the turtle

playing on the playground for the few mintues before the “big kids’ overran it

eating a pretzel with Mama holding him snuggled close in the carrier

drowsing on Mama while we walked back to the car

watching Thomas the Tank Engine until he fell asleep

Thursday’s Child didn’t care about not getting a good solid nap today.

He didn’t care about eating.

He didn’t care that I was hurriedly trying to get dinner.

he cared about:

playing in the warm sunshine

going for a walk with Mama in the stroller watching his red and silver sparkly pinwheel rotate in the breeze

nursing

picking dandelions

sitting on Mama’s knee while she worked and ate dinner

nursing to sleep while Mama sang her songs to him and he let sleep wash over him in the gloaming of a spring evening.

 

Oh, to be more child-like in my worries and appreciations.

Snippets

Today’s Money

Car = several hundred to keep running

Cat = almost as much to keep him running, as well

Credit card statement = groan

Adventures in (Teenage)Babysitting

while we have no idea whether we are going to move or not, we are proceeding as if we might be. There are 3 high school girls who live a few houses down who offered to watch Miles occasionally. This week was spring break and I thought I’d be able to have a lot of help but I’ve only gotten one of them to come over for a couple hours. I asked her yesterday to come this afternoon if she didn’t have anything else going on but neglected to ask her to LET ME KNOW if she was going to make other plans.  “Sorry I can’t come I’m at a softball game” is what she wrote when I asked her if she could come over at 3.

I think I need a babysitter who isn’t in 9th grade.

House

I have no idea how people sell houses and still manage to keep up with all the regular, everyday stuff that they have to do.

Mommyhood

today was one of those days that knocks all the confidence out of you as a parent. I feel like I’m doing it wrong.  I hate the way I react to  the TT sometimes because I shouldn’t BE reacting since I’m the adult and instead I’m all upset and “why is he acting like a two year old???“.

Hi. I maybe have unrealistic expectations sometimes.  I’m a horrible mother. I know it. I feel sorry for the Tyrant.

Breastfeeding

The TT pretty much exsists on breastmilk and air.  He nurses pretty much every hour. Or half hour. Or five minutes.  He bit me twice today. Sometimes it gets old.  Sometimes it’s good and sometimes it feels like it isn’t.

Nursing is one of his most favorite things in the world.

Diapers

Diaper changes, seriously I’m surprised that someone hasn’t called Child Protective Services on me when they hear him going on and on during a change. He really acts like I’m abusing him or something.

Even more crunchy

I’ve been taking the TT’s bathwater and putting it in the washer to wash laundry with. I pour it into an old kitty litter pail to take downstairs.

T thinks I’m nuts.

Tonight I showered in the TT’s bathtub. Then I took that water downstairs for the washer, too.  Don’t tell T. He’ll be calling the Mental Health Ward of the local hospital soon.

Who knows? Maybe I am nuts.

Blogging

There. If I had had the time and/or energy I could have turned any one of these into a tepidly entertaining post.  I did in my head.

Bed

I need to go to bed. 2:30 a.m. comes pretty early.

Salma Hyack Gains a New Fan

I don’t really know much about Salma Hyack except that she is in the movie industry but I’ll tell you straight out that all those people raising their eyebrows and tut-tutting about her breastfeeding another woman’s starving child need to readjust their priorities.

La Leche League does not make recommendations about cross-nursing because of the potential risk of infection, decrease of supply for the donor’s child and the differing compositions of milk as the donor’s child ages.

However.

A starving infant?  You have a ready food source and not only a ready one, one perfectly tailored to the needs of a young homo sapien?  What would YOU do?

Frankly, it’s a no-brainer and Mrs Fussy Crankypants recommends that all the critics just shut up already.

Or go out and look into the eyes of a malnourished child.

Mrs Fussy Crankypants salutes Salma.

Previous Older Entries