My darling little boy, consider this an intervention of sorts.
I realize you have a problem. And perhaps I am an enabler. See, I would like to no longer breast feed, pump, produce milk, or otherwise engage in being the source of food for you, my darling little precious parasite. We have gotten to the point where you are sucking the life out of me. I mean that in a good way, and am proud and thankful I’m able to feed you and nourish you through breast milk. I’m just over it now. So let’s discuss.
You, at the ripe old age of six months, are what some would call a “boob snob.” You have only a taste for pure, fresh-off-the-farm breast milk. And this jersey cow has about had enough, and is ready to hang up her udders. I know you drink from a bottle too, when you have to. But we both know what your preference is. Direct from the source, especially at night.
You use your charm well, to get what you want. Yes. You are the cutest little boy I’ve ever seen in my life. And that renders me a sucker (or maybe a suckee, as you are the literal “sucker.”)
Breastfeeding is no easy task. And pumping, because I work, is super delightful. I’ve even coined the lactation room at work, “The Dairy.”
Right now, you’ve got it made in the shade, because these boobs will make 14oz. a pump (all a product of your doing, I’m sure.) And you nurse whenever you damn well please, when I’m at home, because you capitalize on the fact that I am tired and rendered lazy after a long day of work, as soon as I walk through the door. It’s just too easy to unsnap my janky nursing bra that has seen way better days, and latch you on.
The boob is the great silencer. But for goodness sake, man, it’s time to get with the formula program. Not to mention, you heartily welcome any and all baby food I stuff into your sweet little milk-hole. Oatmeal, sweet potatoes, carrots, green beans, apples, bananas. Do you really need to nurse through the night? At the very least, can we cut that out?
You really know how to work this very sweet little mother-son attachment to me. You always want to be by my side. Even now, as I write this blog entry, we are minutes removed from your 10pm snack, and you requested to “assist me” in my writing. Due to your snuggly factor, I happily oblige. After all, you are the cutest little boy in the world.
It’s been decided then; You win. I won’t wean. Yet. I’m glad we had this little talk.
Related post: The Joys of Weaning
This article was originally published on