You’d think being home most of the time playing with a little kid would be fun. And sometimes it is, but mostly it’s boring and lonely and you find yourself saying “if I have to change one more poopy diaper or clean up one more squashed and smooshed lunch off the floor, I will die. I will cease to exist. there will be a babygoo-stained pile of clothes where cjm once stood.”
Then your toddler takes a break from his very important task of pulling every single baby wipe out of the container to come over and give you a hug. Then you think “okay, maybe I can do this a bit longer…” Then two minutes later your precious sweetheart is flailing all over the floor like death’s last call because you gave him the blue block when he wanted the green one.
It’s back and forth like this all day long. Joy and aggravation, sweetness and impatience, laughter and frustration.
Sometimes I think maybe RG would be better off in a daycare-type setting, where he’s around other little kids and other adults. He’d receive more stimulation than I could ever possibly give him, plus he’d have to learn new ways of coping. I have a friend who’s child is in daycare and he’s learning all sorts of cool things, like sleeping on a mat, plus his teacher talks spanish to him. I want that!
Right now I’m pretty much at RG’s beck and call. I find this to be rewarding for us both, but also limiting and in fact pure insanity. I don’t really want it to be this way, but now we’re here and it’s hard to change things. It isn’t so bad, just a little taxing. Not that I have anything better to do, but still.
I am still breastfeeding, for which I am very happy. On most days. It gets particularly irksome when RG decides that nothing in the world will satisfy him but my breast. And not just one, mind you. I have to pull them both out so he can pop back and forth between them like some sort of carnival game. He tends to do this when he feels I’m not giving him enough attention, but it’s still kind of annoying. It makes me laugh and he’s awfully cute, but I’m not super excited to sit/lay there for 15 mins exposed to the world while Mr. Boob Man has his fill. It’s gotten worse in the past week or so, maybe he’s about to take off on some sort of developmental leap (like talking maybe) and needs my rack for comfort. Or maybe he’s just bored. Who knows. Whatever the reason, I want my two ladies back. I’ll probably hold out for a few more months, then we’ll start thinking about weaning.
I think the preceding paragraph contains more information than most people could ever wish to know about me and/or my breasts. oh well. my site, my choice of topics.
10K update: training for this race is very hard. I cry nightly.