The Shop is Closed

A year.

Before he was born, I made a conscious decision to breastfeed Dylan for a full year if at all possible. 

My breastfeeding experience with Abbey went as well as could be expected, considering my pumping option at work was a dirty supply closet attached to a friend's classroom or under my desk, with the blinds closed, posterboards on the windows on my two hallway doors, chatting with a friend whose desk was housed in my classroom.

I ended up supplementing with formula for daytime feedings.

Since I wouldn't be working outside of the home when I had Dylan, exclusively breastfeeding until he was ready for cow's milk seemed like a reasonable goal, a good fit for our family.

There were times I questioned the decision.  He (mostly) rejected bottles and always rejected nursing covers or blankets or anything that might have added discretion to his feedings.  Since we were often out and about, I was a virtual National Geographic mother (sorry Metro Detroit.)

But in the chaos of having a two-year old and an itty bitty baby, nursing became the eye of the storm for Dylan and me.  It was the time when we were able to carve out some mother-child alone time, even in the middle of a playdate or a shopping trip.  Abbey would sometimes share the moment, listening to a book on the couch with us or just snuggling into my free side, her head on my shoulder.

As his one-year birthday drew near, and he discovered the wonder of solid foods, his feedings naturally decreased.  I groaned about his middle of the night feeding but privately cherished the moments we had alone in a silent house, his sleepy gulps of milk comforting him back to sleep.

It hurt to drop that feeding.

I held onto his final feeding, before bed, until he was fourteen months.  I used his follow-up appointment to his surgery as an end date, and shed tears at that final feeding.

He's our last baby, so that final feeding was truly the final feeding.

He is still a hugger and a kisser and a snuggler and a giggler, so there are plently of moments of closeness to savor and appreciate.  I try to remember that when I look back on those early feedings, when I was the only person who mattered for just a few minutes.

This milk buffet is closed, and some days I feel a little sad about that.

his daddy 

his favorite books 

his sippy of water

Destination - Wedding

When we heard that our friends Ron and Sarah were getting married on the other side of the state, we did some serious thinking.  Five hours away might not be considered a destination wedding to some, but when you're dealing with a seven-month old nursing baby who doesn't particularly care for a bottle, five hours might as well be fifteen.  Now, I don't claim to be an expert in logic, but there has to be something there about if you can't leave the baby with Grandma and Grandpa, you bring Grandma and Grandpa to the baby.

And that, friends, is how my parents ended up in an adjoining room during our Labor Day wedding weekend.  The arrangement worked out for everyone; Ryan and I were able to attend the wedding festivities without worrying about the kids, the kids got to spend time with Grandma and Grandpa, and, well, hopefully that's a positive for GMa and GPa as well (smile.) 

Parenting involves compromises, but this weekend didn't really feel like a compromise.  There will come a time when Ryan and I are ready to go away and leave the kids with my parents, but this wasn't the weekend to try it.  When we finally do leave both of them overnight, I want him to be a little better of a sleeper!  No one but Mom should have to get up forty-eight times a night with Dylan!  (Thankfully that's a bit of an exaggeration...a bit.)

jumping together on the bed

poor Grandma, helping Dylan jump is an arm workout

all that jumping makes you thirsty

spoons are good toys

walking around (and trying to stay warm)

Abbey, my mom, and I went to check out Lake Michigan on Saturday

the wind was crazy

thankfully, Abbey wore her leg warmers

the wind kept blowing off her hood

she was not pleased

Sterlingfest 2.0

Really, I don't have any idea what version of Sterlingfest this might be, but it's the second year that I've taken Abbey.  My mom met the kids and I, and we meet Colleen and Brendan (also our second year running), Laura, Paul, Keoki, and Laura's sister and nephews.  Only Abbey and Brendan were there for the rides, and we had a blast. 

Cute ride pictures at the beginning.

Semi-angry, definitely annoyed breastfeeding rant at the end!

dinosaurs

gma Sharon called them dragons

Abbey corrected her immediately

it was much more difficult to get this picture than you would think

balloons

Brendan is not impressed

that's because Brendan is still a scheduled nap-taker (good boy!)

Dylan was such a good sport during the whole festival

cars! Abbey's favorite ride (well, sometimes she says the balloons)

Brendan wanted the green car but chose pink second

check out her face, funny girl

purple whale

she rode the pink one later

getting comfortable on the rides

we rode the apple ride, which is like the teacups at Disney

basically, the ride spins and the apple spins

my brave girl loved it at first and asked me to turn it faster

she changed her mind but was really tough about it

at the end she told me that maybe she would like the red apple better (we were in the green one)

Michigan is not exactly a breastfeeding-friendly state.  Our laws basically prohibit arrest based on public indecency, but that's all of the protection moms have, from what I understand from my research.  And by research I mean I googled it, but I think it was pretty clear.  Anyway, I was quite discreet with Abbey - respectfully dragging my nursing cover everywhere, timing errands to feed her peacefully in the lounge at Nordstrom's, retreating to my car if necessary.  With Dylan, everything changed.  First of all, he HATES having anything on his head when he's eating - blankets, covers, hats are all eventually batted away impatiently.  Then there's the fact that I am already carting along the bounty that two kids seem to need.  Finally, I am generally chasing after a toddler as well, and I need to feed quickly, efficiently, and as easily as possible.

Today, as I pushed a stroller down a path in the park, looking for a shady picnic table far away from the crowds, I got irritated.  Why does our society make it so difficult to feed a baby?

Normally, I don't hide out, but my mom was with us today, so I had some extra time and decided to go somewhere I knew I would attract the least attention.  It's annoying, however, that in a sea of ridiculously inappropriate clothing I felt it necessary to retreat anywhere but the food area to feed Dylan.  People were wandering around with toddler-sized clothing on not-so-toddler-sized bodies  (I am not the only person who needs some extra workout time around here), and that can be just offensive as the amount of skin I show when nursing my baby.

I don't expect society to ignore the sexual connotation of a woman's body.  Victoria's Secret isn't going anywhere anytime soon, and I'm not ignoring the complicated messages that both boys and girls receive about the feminine body.  I just wish that it was more accepted, even welcomed, to see the sight of a mother breastfeeding. 

Off the soapbox and my moral high horse before I get a nosebleed!
but I'm still right