No, no I’m not kidding.
I started out with the best intentions. Breastfeeding was good for the baby. Breast is best and all that jazz. Then it kept up because I was dropping the pounds fast and still eating whatever landed in my hand. It continued past that and to this day because hot damn I don’t have to lug bottles and/or formula with me anywhere. Whoop, whoop! Not to mention the other numerous perks.
Baby cranky. Here’s a boob. Fell down and won’t stop crying. Here’s a boob. Won’t fall asleep. Here ya go! What I am going to do when I decide to wean him or he weans himself.. I have no clue. The boob is the crutch I lean on. I don’t have to fight him to sleep, rocking and walking and singing (most of the time) I can just pop him on and away he goes. Not all the time mind you, for example he’s teething right now and it takes the perfect storm to get him down. Typically though I am happily putting him down the easiest way I can. Because I’m lazy. Because it’s less tears. Less upset baby. Which in turn of course means a happier momma.
I’m sure in time something else will become our saving grace, some toy or song or blankie but for now I’ll happily possess the key to his happiness.
Oh boobs, what would I do without you.