If you give your nipple a squeeze to see whether or not your mammaries are still functional after 48 hours without nursing, don't be looking down the barrel of said nipple at the the time. I'm just saying.
My 43 hours of glorious solitude made me realize that my goal was not to wean Mali, but rather to give my body a break. And the udders still work, seeing as Mali nursed herself to sleep happily (and quickly) tonight. Now I know that Seymour can handle getting her to sleep without me, if need be. It's not pleasant, but it can be done. This means I can go away for breaks before I reach last week's breaking point. That knowledge alone should keep me going for weeks.
For the record, my partner had no problem with or complaints about spending the weekend with his three children. He couldn't be bothered with the silly incompetent dad shtick that so forms the backbone of discussions in play groups I will never attend. He took the kids to restaurants and went grocery shopping, he even had their friends over. I returned to a house that was cleaner than when I left it. Maybe I should be the one to go back to paying work.
Technorati Tags: breastfeeding, Mali, parenting, Seymour, toddler, weaning
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