Baby Evan came out of his bout with the flu RAVENOUSLY HUNGRY and unable to find enough dog hair on the floor to solve this problem. So now it’s my problem. Or more specifically, my boobs’ problem (you don’t even want to know how long I spent on that apostrophe – and I’m still not even sure it’s right). Unfortunately, my boobs are still attached to my chest. I never would have thought of that as unfortunate before I had a kid but my, how the world has changed.

Despite the time and money I invested in the make-my-own-baby-food-plan the baby refuses to play along and actually eat any of it. I’ve mentioned before (and before and before ) how uninterested he is in solids, but I always figured the time would come when he was ready. I figured the time would come at 7 months, and at 8 months, and at 9 months…and now at almost 10 months I’m done figuring. I give up on baby food. That’s right folks, I am not feeding my baby ANY MORE BABY FOOD.

Before you call Child Protective Services, let me explain my NEW plan. It’s NEW, in all caps, so you know it must be good. Well, not new like just invented. Just NEW to Baby Evan and his tired, sore, milk-less mother.

NEW PLAN: Baby-Led Weaning. (For the record, not really weaning – there’s no reduction of milk/formula. I think the creator is British or something and you know how they are with their crazy baby words like “cot” and “push chair”.)

I don’t remember where I first heard about BLW but now I’ve heard of it everywhere. On the interwebs, in my parenting magazines, on the interwebs, from moms I know and trust, on the interwebs. So I finally checked it out and discovered…we already do it. Basically, Baby-Led Weaning is just giving babies baby-sized portions of adult foods. So if you’re having pasta for dinner, you give the baby some pasta. If you’re having tacos for dinner you give the baby avocado and tortillas. If you’re having cereal for dinner you give the baby a banana. Not mushed and pureed and fed with a spoon, just cut up so baby can feed himself (Or not even cut up – Google it for the scientific, no jokes details and safety info on choking and stuff). I started doing it because I was tired of putting a ton a work into preparing baby food just to dump it all down the drain when Baby Evan really just wanted what was on my plate. So basically, laziness. But it turns out I’m not the only lazy mom out there, so it’s LEGITIMATE laziness.

So far the BLW has gone a lot better than the pureed baby food but I still don’t think the baby is actually EATING. My suspicions are based on a) the fact he nursed every half hour all day yesterday and b) THIS:

Oh hey, I just discovered gravity and it's super fun!

That mess on the floor is dinner: an entire banana and 3/4 of an avocado. It landed exactly where lunch (half a mango) did a few hours earlier. My dog is now eating better quality, more nutrient rich food than most human beings. Oh well, I’ll keep trying.

So after a week of night weaning and three full nights of sleep I’m ready to start whining about the opposite of sleep deprivation – no more night time cuddles. (This is where you yell at your monitor for me to just make up my mind already. Go ahead. I’ll still be here complaining when you’re done.) Baby Evan is not a very snuggly baby during the day and he’s MUCH too busy and important to sit quietly in anyone’s lap while they enjoy the babiness of him – wispy hair and chubby knees and the way he squirms just before he gives in to sleep, like he has to get that last bit of energy out so he can rest. Sometimes those night feedings were the only baby love I got all day, so I’m sad he no longer needs me at 2 am. As if I’ve already forgotten the eighty bajillion times I said OMG WHY DOES THIS BABY NEED ME AT 2 AM?? CUT THE CORD CHILD. I think this kind of total insanity is only possible in motherhood.

OK, truthfully it’s not just about the cuddles. It’s also about the totally not funny joke Mother Nature is playing on me and my lady parts. EVEN THOUGH I’m still exclusively breastfeeding, EVEN THOUGH the baby eats the equivalent of one tablespoon of actual solids in a day while throwing 2 cups worth on the floor (yesterday it was sweet potato fries and penne), EVEN THOUGH I’ve gotten exactly three nights of sleep since April 5, 2009, I am now the proud owner of one menstrual cycle.  Thank God I found that box of Tampax in the back of my bathroom closet and also that Tampax doesn’t expire the way that bottle of Robitussin I found next to it did. In 2007. This wouldn’t have happened if I was willing to go another 9 months without any sleep. Geez, what was I thinking?

I’m also a teeny bit worried about my milk supply. It would be crushing to have to supplement at this point, especially since I still don’t have a way to get fluids INTO the baby as he thinks the main purpose of sippy cups is banging them against the floor. I’m back to that newborn oh-God-I-can’t-tell-how-much-he’s-eating-is-fussing-because-he’s-starving???? uncertainty, which is ridiculous at 9 months. I’m probably overreacting. This is probably what normal lactation is like. I’ve gone from being able to put out a medium sized grease fire using only my boobs to having just the amount of milk my baby needs. It’s nice to be able to take off my bra without immediately jumping into a shower or risk causing a flood and drowning the cat. I’m going to love wearing bras with fewer than fourteen hooks in the back and maybe even in a color besides white, flesh or black. But I’ve also heard people say getting their period back was the end of successful breastfeeding. I’d cry for days if I had to stop nursing…so should I start drinking Mother’s Milk tea or what?

P.S. Have I just totally forgotten what normal feels like or is anyone else insanely thirsty during that time of the month? I drank at least a gallon of water (plus 2 sodas, a hot chocolate and a glass of milk) yesterday and I’m as dehydrated as if I’d been licking a block of salt instead. Gaaaaaaaaaaaah.

P.P.S. Crap, I guess this also means I actually have to start doing something to prevent another baby, especially a SOOPRISE BEBEH. Not that I would be crushed if it happened but I am going to be in that wedding in September and I don’t think the adorable, strapless, tea-length dresses the bride has in mind would fit over a 34 week belly. Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

Get ready for a few days of babywearing posts! I’ve got a couple new carriers, some pictures and one adorable baby-sized baby backpack from my own childhood.

First up, some illustrations…

From "That New Baby!" by Patricia Relf published 1980 and probably given to me when my mom was pregnant with my younger sister. I love that it's a dad wearing the baby!

From "Open House for Butterflies" by Ruth Krauss illustrations by Maurice Sendak (the Where the Wild Things Are guy) published in 1960. I loved this book as a child, it's full of adorable nonsense - exactly the sort of things a 5 year old would think or say.

For some reason when I think of babywearing, I think of it as either an ancient-times-slash-third-world-country tradition (Gasp! No strollers!) or as a novel new idea I practically thought of by myself (I’m a genius!). Clearly based on these illustrations people were doing it in 1960 and 1980 and probably every year before, between and after.

(Mostly off topic but sort of interesting sidenote: I found these pictures in a big stack of children’s books my mother had in the attic. Out of the 200+ books I looked through not a single one had a nursing mother or a breastfeeding baby anywhere in their pictures or mentioned in the story. If feeding was pictured/mentioned at all it was a bottle. Most of the books were from the 80’s – when breastfeeding lost some of the upswing it experienced in the previous decade – or from the 1950’s – when it probably wasn’t discussed at all. A quick Amazon search reveals I’m not the only one who has looked for illustrations of nursing babies and not found very many.)

Yeah, I’m going to talk about boobs again. Deal.

Happy Face :)

I love breastfeeding. It’s totally amazing that if you combine my pregnancy with the months of exclusive (really really exclusive) breastfeeding, I’ve kept this baby alive with just my body for 17 months. I’m practically a superhero, although thank God I don’t have a spandex outfit. I’ve given my baby the best start possible and he (and I) will both be healthier for it. I’ve saved an enormous amount of money by not buying any formula and an enormous amount of time not sterilizing, heating and preparing bottles. Nothing beats snuggling with a warm sleepy infant on a cold morning and starting my day feeling absolutely attached to my baby. I feel like I repeat all this stuff so many times a day I might as well get it tattooed on my forehead. Or at least embroidered on a pillow. A pillow I can throw off a cliff.

Sad Face :(

I’m so so so tired all the time from getting up at night to nurse this baby. Now that he’s mobile he’s like a tiny Michael Phelps – his body burns calories faster than he can get them in and he needs to eat fourteen times a day. Not to mention possibly suffering from a case of the munchies. When I committed to breastfeeding, I was relieved to learn “extended nursing” usually only involved a couple of feedings a day and not the round-the-clock sessions of a newborn. Unfortunately Baby Evan didn’t get that memo. My nipples feel like they’re going to fall (not from pain, just from pulling) and it only gets worse when he’s teething – which he’s doing AGAIN. This time it’s the top teeth, which means in a couple days he’ll be able to bite with the same power as an average sized dog. Think about how much that would hurt. And despite MY anytime, anywhere approach to breastfeeding the baby refuses to eat if there are people, noise, colors, sounds, dogs, cats, other babies, music, or toys within 100 feet. If I don’t plan for quiet time at home he goes all day without eating and the nighttime feedings go from 2 or 3 to 4 or 5. At this point, I couldn’t give up on breastfeeding even if I wanted to. The battle we have every time I try to give him a bottle or cup is EPIC and his refusal could easily outlast my will to force one on him. Every time I mention my frustration I’m told “don’t worry, he’ll grow out of it” and that 8 months is a totally normal age to still be nursing exclusively. THANKS FOR NOTHING advice givers. Why don’t you come over here and breastfeed this baby at 3 am? For 8 months in a row? Oh, I’m sorry, you’re too busy sleeping at 3 am? THEN SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE. Sorry, sleep deprivation is making me cranky. And complaining about it makes me feel a little better. Especially complaining about it in LARGE CAPITAL LETTERS. LOUD NOISES.

One of the developmental milestones I have been the most excited to reach is parental preference, when the baby starts to love E and I better than everyone else. I mean, it’s hard to spend the morning wiping poop off your child, yourself, the crib and the walls and still get the same smile as the lady in the grocery store who calls him “such a happy little girl”. I am your sole source of food child, and don’t you forget it. I want some love!

Unfortunately, that mindset seems to have backfired. Baby Evan definitely remembers where his food comes from. He remembers at night, when he refuses to unlatch even in his sleep. He remembers when I’m carrying him around and he starts patting my shirt to make sure he’s favorite things in the world are still there. He remembers when we’re playing on the floor and he launches himself right at my cleavage, head first. It seems that his parental preference isn’t for ME as much as it is for my boobs.

One of the things I love about breastfeeding is that it’s an automatic boo-boo fixer, sleeping pill, tantrum distraction and leisure activity in one convenient package. Now that head bumps and face plants are a part of daily life the ability to sooth Baby Evan’s tears on demand is more important than ever. But apparently while I was holding him in my arms and kissing his head and singing him little songs, all he noticed was the comfy pillows. So much for making his lovey a blanket or one of the dozens of cute and cuddly stuffed animals collecting dust in his room – he’s already picked out his two favorite things. I just hope he knows he won’t be taking them to college.