Three years, one and a half months:
Toddler is thriving. She has a feed in the mornings, and usually one at bedtime as well - that one has a time limit of two songs. Lately, they've been "Dance to thy Daddy" and "Can your pony take us walking, Uncle Joe?"
During the day, she sometimes asks for a feed if she suffers a bop; these tend to be limited to a count of "1 milk, 2 milk, 3 milk, 4 milk, 5 milk, all done now."
Toilet training is going fairly well, as far as we can tell. Sometimes I suspect that she doesn't drink enough, but I try to remind her.
Nine and a half months:
Baby is blossoming! She plays with solid foods, even eats them sometimes, but is still clearly and definitely a milk-fed pumpkin; is that alright? Her skin is glorious, real roses and cream, or possibly peaches and cream - soft and edible and flawless, anyway. She's chubby and strong and communicative, mobile and inquisitive and opinionated, her teeth are strong and bright... and gappy... she experiments with a wide variety of foods but doesn't eat very much of any of them. She seems to like garlic and basil.
Shame.
I hid from my sisters, when they visited recently, because I couldn't bear the effort of defending us to them if they saw me breastfeeding my normous giant toggler girl. They avert their faces when I feed Baby, so I knew they'd be uncomfortable with it... Bad Feminist, No Empowerment.
I am ashamed of my cowardice.
1 comment:
ack you just don't need the fight.. I know what that's like. I breastfed my two for 18 months each, and stoped through illness each time. My neighbour down the road still breastfeeds her five year old son. Each mother does what is right for them and their family. Good for you. Don't feel shame for not fighting the battle every time. You're feeding your kids that's what it's all about right?
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