This weekend has been like some sort of terrible research project into the nocturnal habits of juvenile humans when exposed to large amounts of sunlight, food and fun. Code Name: tire the crap out of the baby even though it doesn’t guarantee anything.

On Saturday we met our friends Brandon and Amanda and their daughter Madison down in Essex, CT (Motto: The Best Small Town in America)(My New Proposed Motto: Where To Go If You Want To Feel Really Bad About Your Economic Status). We took the kids to a rather child-inappropriate museum on the history of the Connecticut River and let Baby Evan do his best hobo impression, running in shoeless circles for an hour before we tracked down one of the most delicious fried clam po’ boys I’ve ever had at the Black Seal Restaurant. It was so good even Baby Evan liked it, chomping down part of the giant hoagie roll it came on, an adult-sized handful of clam strips, and dozens of french fries. Did I mention he also ate half the grilled cheese we ordered for him? (Our first time ever ordering off the kid’s menu! THAT is the kind of milestone they should put in baby books.) We didn’t get home until after 3, but by thanks to some crazy magical time warp he was perfectly happy to run around in more shoeless circles yelling at the dog until bedtime, when he collapsed in a heap of exhausted cuteness and slept for TWELVE. STRAIGHT. HOURS.

On Sunday we ran last minute errands (including letting Hobo Baby Evan run up and down the aisles at Stop & Shop – you guessed it – shoeless) before Brandon and Amanda and Madison came over and we all headed out for our first boat ride of the season. The weather was perfect, the traffic on the river was incredibly light and the kids behaved (at least for the first half of the day) especially after stuffing them with Goldfish and Twizzlers. We spent four hours enjoying our horrible financial decision boat and the sun and the water, with everyone but Baby Evan jumping in (water temp: 72 degrees) for some splashy fun.  After forcing one overly tired child into an afternoon nap, we went over to Brandon and Amanda’s (can you believe they weren’t tired of us yet?! What I am going to do when they move to Virginia???) for grilled chicken pineapple quesadillas and a few rounds of the marble game.* For dinner, Baby Evan ate several pieces of bread with goat cheese dip and some plain cheese quesadillas plus a whole sippy cup of watered down lemonade. Instead of the quite, easy bedtime we were expecting when we got home, E and I had to take turns rocking/patting/nursing one INCREDIBLY ANGRY SCREAMING CHILD for two hours before he would go to sleep and stay asleep. Eventually a dose of (generic, non-recalled) baby tylenol was what did the trick and Baby Evan slept from 11 pm to 6 am this morning. Which, well, just isn’t good enough anymore. He needs at least 10 hours of sleep to keep him from turning into a monster and in my fetus-growing state I need at least 8 hours.

WHAT THE HELL, BABY EVAN? What was the one factor on Saturday that led to a good night that we somehow missed on Sunday? French fries? No afternoon nap? Less sunshine? More hobo shoelessness? Is it teething? Diaper rash? A broken leg? Demon possession? Please tell me so I can solve the problem with food/shade/medicine/holy water and start getting those wonderful 12-hour nights on a regular basis. Sandy and I thank you.

* The marble game: best card/board game ever. Requires 4-6 people and a special wooden board, unless you are REALLY addicted in which case I’ve heard you can make a board with cardboard and little hole-punch circles. Sometimes called “Social Security” in Ohio, but the rules are less stupid complicated.

When life leaves your blog lacking, that’s what God invented bullet points for.

– Baby Evan officially knows both the word and the sign for dog and will do them both independently and on command. So those 12 weeks of signing class ended up being (almost) effective after all.

– I added threading to the comments section, so you can use the “reply” option if someone has said something SO BRILLIANT or SO AWFUL that you just must speak to them directly. Expect to see a lot more of me in my own comments.

– If you have a discussion with a coworker about fun things to do over the weekend, make sure you’re on the same page regarding whether you are going to do said things TOGETHER or are just hearing about HIS plans. Otherwise you risk his wife and your wife misinterpreting your polite interest as complicit agreement and you will spend your whole weekend visiting museums and quaint seaside villages full of antique stores.

– That last one was totally hypothetical of course.

– Although MAYBE if you took a second out of your busy iPhone-game-playing schedule to, oh, I don’t know, ASK YOUR PREGNANT WIFE HOW SHE’S FEELING she wouldn’t feel the need to drag you all over New England to get some time together.

– No really, these are just generalizations.

– I’m going to have to go bathing suit shopping AGAIN, since last year’s one piece is not a maternity suit and the maternity suit I do have is incredibly uncomfortable and ugly. I seem to remember buying it because it was the only option though, so I may not have any luck.

– In an incredibly strange and somewhat evil twist of fate, this pregnancy has improved my skin quality an enormous amount already (which, according to tradition, means I’m having another boy) and last year’s stretch marks have faded to almost invisible. I suppose this is just in preparation for new, angry, violently purple stretch marks in my 3rd trimester, but I may make it through the summer without looking like I’ve been attacked by wild badgers.

– I think I’m going to go to Target today. Just thought you should know.

– A warning to all new parents: TAKE LOTS OF PICTURES OF YOUR BABY NOW, because before too long they’re going to be running through your kitchen naked and refusing to hold still long enough to focus the camera. And if you DO manage to get them to hold still, it will only be sitting in your lap on the floor and they will somehow still manage to ruin your photo.

At least he's still pretty cute.

Literally. My parents, E and I took Baby Evan to the National Zoo in Washington on Saturday. It was…exhausting. And hot. And I was sort of unimpressed by what I remembered as a really cool zoo from my childhood – the walking to animal ratio was much too large and the one animal I though Baby Evan would really like (giraffes) were no where to be found.

I know pictures of zoo animals are really boring so I’ll try to keep this short. Of course, I will fail.

Baby Evan's first ride on public transportation. I think he liked it.

OMG A PANDA IT'S A PANDA IT'S BLACK AND WHITE AND A BEAR AND FROM CHINA. TRY NOT TO PEE YOUR PANTS.

Seriously, the amount of freaking out of a panda eating bamboo was epic.

Baby Evan getting in on the exciting panda fun. Although he thought it was a dog.

Number of Ergos spotted: 4. Number worn by men: 4. Number of people who looked at my carrier and told their husband "Oh I think that's the Becco": 1.

For the record, the zoom on my camera is not that good. This cheetah was REALLY close.

Stupid llama. Plus ten point for getting the reference. Minus 10 points for admitting it. Minus another 10 points for me since this is actually an emu.

Aw it's a gorilla family. The baby was the cutest thing ever.

This is the point where Baby Evan lost interest in the animals and started wondering when nap time starts.

I suspected this was a fake alligator because of the moss, but I saw him blink so I'm pretty sure he was alive.

I had to physically restrain myself from shouting "Aslan! Aslan! Take me to Naria!" I'm kind of a crazy person when it comes to lions.

HAHAHAHA! You thought I couldn't get breastfeeding into a zoo picture post didn't you? I can get breastfeeding into ANYTHING. But really, I loved this sign.

After the zoo Mom and Dad took us out to lunch while Baby Evan slept in his stroller. When he woke up our waitress bribed him to be good with Oreos. I think he enjoyed them.

Baby Evan made a lot of friends on the metro. He clearly doesn't understand the "listen to your iPod and don't make eye contact" rule.

Although by the end of the day I'd say he was ready for his own metro card.

Next time we’ll do real Washington, with lots of monuments and museums and freeze dried ice cream. Which is the Washington I remember from my childhood.

I feel like I need to start with a disclaimer: This post is not part of the breastfeeding/formula debate. My choice on that matter was made a long time ago and I fell firmly on the breast side of the fence. I struggled, I cried, I fought and after almost FOUR MONTHS of problems, with a very supportive LC and a lot of luck I made breastfeeding work for us. I now attend a weekly breastfeeding support group, at which I am one of the “veteran” mothers who give advice to those just starting out. I have nursed Baby Evan successfully and exclusively for his entire life. I would even go so far as to say I am a lactivist, especially when I compare my opinions to many of the posts and articles I see online. My original goal of nursing for 1 year was extended to 2 years a long time ago.

All that being said, I NEED MY BOOBS BACK.

Did you know that when you’re pregnant, the volume of blood in your body doubles? All that extra blood flow can lead to a lot of changes – both good and bad. You can use you imagination on the good stuff. (If you need any more details shoot me an email, I’d be happy to explain.) But thanks to increased sensitivity my nipples now feel like they’re being pierced with dull yet burning hot needles by someone who sucks at piercing things every time Baby Evan nurses. Let me tell you, it’s not very fun. I’d rate it somewhere between root canal with no Novocaine and having a toenail ripped out with pliers.

As far as I know, there really isn’t any way to alter this pain level, unless I were to rely on heavy narcotics. Which I don’t think is a real option. It’s not a matter of a better latch or a new way to hold him or teaching him not to bite. We’ve got all that down. The only way to stop it from hurting would be to stop nursing.

And there’s my problem. Baby Evan still nurses like an infant – every 3 or 4 hours with a couple of 6 hour stretches a night. I don’t mind morning, bedtime or even naptime nursing – there are enough hours between those that my nipples get a chance to recover. But I both CAN’T and DON’T WANT to stop nursing Baby Evan completely. I CAN’T because despite his ever increasing acceptance of solid food, Baby Evan still doesn’t eat nearly enough to count as a meal – especially not a well balanced one. French fries, animal crackers and an occasional bean or bite of apple is not lunch. At least as long as he’s nursing I know he’s not going become malnourished or obese. He still wants his milk when he’s hungry and offering other options just gets food thrown in my face and an earful of angry screaming. He never got the hang of a bottle – he’s too old for one now – and cups are usually played with and then thrown on the floor. He also doesn’t get any other liquids (although we did convince him to drink half a sippy cup of juice* this weekend) so I’d be worried about dehydration if I suddenly stopped nursing. I don’t WANT to stop because I set a goal of at least 2 years per kid. I don’t want to end my nursing relationship with Baby Evan just because of this pregnancy. I don’t think that’s a good way to introduce a new sibling to our family – “Say hi to Baby Sandy! No more milk for you! Now don’t go resenting anybody!”

Clearly, weaning him entirely isn’t in our immediate future**, but what I need is advice on how to gently lead a baby towards solids and away from the boob. We’ve past the point where I would need to use formula – my doctor OK’d starting him on whole (preferably organic) milk – but is there an easier transition? Maybe soy milk? It’s closer in consistency and flavor to breastmilk. Do I try to shorten our nursing sessions? Do I force solids on him despite the screaming and throwing? Please help a mama out.

*OK, so it wasn’t juice. It was Crystal Light. But it was orange flavored and I did water it down quite a bit some. Go ahead and judge, things are pretty desperate around here.

**I am clinging to the stories I’ve heard of toddlers who suddenly lost interest in nursing around the 5 month mark of pregnancy due to a change in milk flavor. If I KNEW the end(ish) was within sight I think I grit my teeth through the next 3 months.

I’m hope at least one reader can finish that for me.

E’s family threw his grandmother a huge 86th birthday party over the weekend so we made the 11 hour drive out and back to help celebrate. Because how many 86th birthday’s do you get? Plus if we didn’t make it Granny might have kicked our butts. She’s pretty spry for a great-grandmother.

Once when E was little, Granny spanked him. When he cried and told his mom on her, she asked "Well, did you deserve it?" and E said "Yeeeeeees". You don't mess with Granny

I’ll spare you the fourtybazillionteen pictures of a bunch of people standing around eating hamburgers and jello salad but here’s just a few of my favorites from our trip.

Don't worry kid, they're just ONE side of your family.

Evan Original Recipe and E playing bocce. It easy to see where the competative streak comes from. And for the record, E lost BIG TIME.

Cousin Jack. I hear he had a pretty impressive birthday party this year too.

My scale says I've gained .5 pregnancy pounds, and yet somehow my FACE has gained 15.

Cool magnetic pendulum at the Center of Science and Industry (COSI) Hello me!

"Your fake sink SUCKS. How am I supposed to get my clothes totally soaking wet?"

"Much better. I am appeased by your offering."

This is only the two-pully chair. Which means I'm lifting most of my own weight. Which, let me tell you, is no small amount. So what I'm saying here, is RAWR STRONG!

Real men wear babies in flowered Ergos while carrying their sister's diaper bag for her. Rawr again.