My Bewbs, Theyz On The Internet

So we’re headlong into weaning in the Me Household. It’s entirely my fault that it’s been left to the very end because well, I’ve been negating the fact that I really have to go back to work.

5 days until I’m getting up at the ass crack of dawn to be at my desk by 7:30AM. What-the-fuck-am-I-thinking?

So ya. Two kids, daycare drop off and traffic. I am going to be rising before the summer sun in hopes of dropping them off as the doors open at 7am to be at my desk by 7:30. It’s bad enough trying to get one kid out the door, but myself up, showered dress and them as well?

Pray for me.

What was I talking about before I was so rudely sidetracked by work?

Ah yes.

My boobs.

THIS IS THE POINT WHERE MY MALE READERS READER WILL WANT TO STOP BECAUSE AS MUCH AS THEY’D LOVE TO SEE A POST ABOUT TITS AND ASS, THIS IS MORE A POST ABOUT BREASTS WHICH HAVE SUSTAINED LIFE FOR 11 MONTHS – WORKING BREASTS IF YOU MAY. THIS IS YOUR FIRST AND LAST WARNING!

I’m yelling because that’s the only way I seem to be able to get my point across to men. Sorry, it’s just the truth.

I was contemplating doing the morning and night breast feeding while Hudson is in daycare, but I’ve changed my mind leaving my boobs in a state of flux.

Seriously, they’re screaming at my this very moment.

They don’t know what the fuck is going on. The left one is producing milk while the right is just going with the flow and doesn’t give a shit.

I think if it were at all possible, my right breast would be the male in this relationship.

While the right is just hanging low and not caring what choice I make regarding a suckling or not, the left one is a fiery, angry bitch.

Clearly the left breast would be the female. Duh.

And did I mention angry? Leftie can’t handle this indecisiveness and she it’s letting that be known. Tender, lumpy and FIERY. Feeling a little rock hard-ish in spots, I’m beginning to wonder if there’s an organized union of milk ducts readying a protest against my body and Leftie.

I think nursing would alleviate the pressure and pain, but those milk ducts are rallying the troops for a fight and I think it would just piss them off further if we were to fuck with them again, yanno? And there’s just no reasoning with lactating milk ducts.

And the more I play with them, the more they ache.

And by play I clearly mean compress and knead, not fondle and grope. Geez.

Can I just say that I am a only slightly disappointed that nursing has come to an end; and only slightly because instead of full and perky fun bags we’ll shortly be back to that look of oranges in tube socks.

Lovely.

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Tagged as: boobs, breast feeding, weaning