I exaggerate. I have a head cold, courtesy of Petunia. I am sitting here drinking a pathetic virgin hot whiskey (i.e., honey and lemon in hot water- virgin because once it is done, I'm having a Benadryl), feeling sorry for myself. I wanted to sit and watch TV with my husband while I drank my pathetic drink, but he doesn't have anything not annoying recorded. Our DVR died a while back, and he never set up the Daily Show and Colbert Report again. Boo.
Even so, I don't think I have a real blog post in me tonight. So I'll just give this helpful advice to fathers and other people who have never breastfed: weaning is harder than it looks. Saying "just say no" is no more helpful in this context than it was in the context of convincing teenagers not to take drugs. And the next person who suggests this to me may be required to come to my house after work and attempt to cook dinner while the
I defy anyone to withstand that and not cave and just go ahead and nurse already when the phone rings and the person on the other end tells you he's going to be 20 minutes late for dinner because there is an accident on the freeway.
And then you look at the sweet little happy face nursing and wonder why you're weaning in the first place.
And then you blow your nose for the 7000th time since walking through the door, and you remember that once you wean, you'll be able to take something stronger than Benadryl for a cold.
So you suck it up, balance the still traumatized little