Nine Months with Atticus

Dammit. Here we are 2 days from him turning 10 months old, and I’m just now remembering to post about Month 9. I guess that as long as I don’t start falling 2 months behind, I’m doing okay.

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As you can see, he is only getting cuter.

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In May he started really propelling himself around. He still (even now) hasn’t gotten his knees up underneath him, but he army crawls around the place like nobody’s business. He has arms of steel. He makes me a little scared. We got him these hideous pads to roll around on since he was still clunking his head on the floor on a regular basis.

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For Mother’s Day we taught him to drive. Then the Lumberjack gifted me with this fine backpack, and we hit the trails.

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Roots of Empathy ended in May. I know Atticus isn’t going to remember any of it, but I’m really going to miss it. The kids were so sweet, and loved him so much, and it was so fun to take him there every month to get gazed at. All babies should be so lucky.

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Things got way more exciting in the food department in May! The kid finally started eating. He’s not too good at feeding himself yet, but he’s working on it. He loves those puree pouches, as well as taking bites from whatever I’m eating. I have to be sneaky with that, though, since ONE of his parents worries that Atticus is going to choke and die. The other parent is a little more relaxed. I’ll let you guess which one is right.

He’s still predominantly nursing, and I’m sure he will turn into a psychopathic deviant for it. I’m trying to incorporate more solids into his diet so that he’s less dependent on breastmilk, but that’s just so I can stop pumping at the office. I still love nursing the little wriggler. I love how calm it makes him, and how he’ll sort of tap tap tap on my boob like he’s thinking deep thoughts. He still does his Jane Fonda high kicks, too. That, and he’ll jam his hand in my mouth until I nibble on it, then laughs hysterically (getting milk everywhere). I know I would be getting more sleep if he wasn’t nursing, but…fuck it.

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Suddenly at the end of the month he started being big enough to sit in grocery carts and restaurant high chairs. I still can’t believe I’m a mom. To a kid. Who sits in shopping carts. The fuck?

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Oh, breastfeeding.

It’s happened. I’m forgetting about post-natal things that were difficult, and am viewing the early weeks through a rosy tint of love.  I think this is because I’m already planning on Shotgun Fetus #2, so I don’t want to remember anything that was hard.  Everything was great!  Let’s do it again!*  So it comes as no surprise that I am in love with breastfeeding, can do it at the drop of a bra strap, and seem to think it was always this easy.

* “let’s do it again!” was literally the first thing I said to the Lumberjack, post-birth

I have been lucky, it’s true.  I produce an obscene amount of milk, and always have.  For example: Atticus eats 8-10oz while I’m at work.  I pump over 20oz while I’m at work.  THE FREEZER IS OVERFLOWING.  The other night I was lying on my left side feeding the kid, when I noticed that my right boob (it’s the over-achiever, and always produces 1-2oz more than the other) was squirting a little fountain of milk, straight up into the air.  I admired its beauty for a minute before mopping it up.

Atticus also latches on nicely, and without any pain.  Without any pain ANYMORE.  This is what I’m forgetting.  The “HOLY FUCK GODDAMN” that I used to shout out when he would latch, the way I would glare at the Lumberjack when he innocently suggested that I feed the kid, the feeling akin to someone squeezing & pinching my nipples when nothing was actually touching them…I have forgotten all of these things, and instead just love the fuck out of breastfeeding.

It feels good.  Is it possible to say that without it sounding weirdly sexual or otherwise inappropriate?  One of the surprising things about breastfeeding is how completely non-sexual it is.  I mean, these are my tits.  I’ve spent almost a decade exposing them for cash & performing with them in The Sexy Way.  Things have “felt good” involving my boobs for more than half my life now, so it’s odd to say breastfeeding feels good, since it’s my kid using my boob for food.  But…it does.  In the same way a massage feels good, rubbing a sore muscle or someone’s hand on your forehead.  My breasts don’t really hurt much from storing up milk (except for when I go 3+ hours without nursing or pumping and then OW), but they still feel full, so having them slowly drained feels nice.  Soothing.

Watching his little jaw moving rhythmically while his eyes roll back in his head is also great.  And when he hums.  When he pushes gently on my boob like he’s trying to pump more milk out of it.  Especially when he’s crying from hunger, and then when I’m almost settled in to feed him and am finally pulling down the bra strap he starts making this crying chuckle sound, like he’s still upset but can’t not also be excited about what’s about to happen.  And when he falls asleep next to me with a little sigh, and I know that I built that, I grew that, I’m sustaining that.

that little dude has passed the hell out.

that little dude has passed the hell out.