Boobisaurus Rex
My youngest is teething, so he wants the boob all day, every day, all. the. time. He stomps, he growls, he leans in for the kill.
Just call him Boobisaurus Rex, and me? My name is Boobie McBooberson (nice to meet you). I’m DYING for a little personal space. I just want to be able to lounge on my couch and happily flip channels on my DVR without being mounted by him the second I sit. (By the way, is there an alarm on our butts that sounds as soon as we sit? I swear he’s like a heat-seeking missile, no matter what corner of the house he’s in, within ten seconds he’s climbing me like Mount Everest.) I would love a little breathing room for the twins, they’re being crazily overworked and exploited, much like Kate Gosselin’s children.
(Guess where he is right this second? Trying to climb into my lap. For more boob. Ugh!)
It’s hard to manhandle dinner with a ravenous child of this nature. Not but a day ago I was literally trying to shake Baby Dude off as he clutched my leg mercilessly as though he was hanging off a cliff, all while I was doing my best to stir sauce and cut vegetables. And it isn’t because he’s hungry, either, because the kid can wolf down his dinner and thensome, and still come chasing after me for some extra boob-time. I think it’s an addiction. Is there a Boobaholic’s Anonymous I’m not aware of?
I think breastfed babies should undergo some sort of class that teaches them that the boob doesn’t auto-fill immediately when they’re finished. It isn’t like a soda fountain, where you snap in a new canister and you’re good to go. (Dear boob-addicted son, I know that’s what you think happens). Unfortunately, once he realizes there’s nothing there, I get one pissed-off baby who then sucks even harder to try to get some, if any, milk.
Ow.
It’s a wonder I even have breasts left after breastfeeding eleventy-billion kids, let alone this one. Despite my being excited about this being the last baby, I’m also fretting because, this is the last baby (!!!) forever.
Until then, I will just have to get used to the mounting, the climbing, the tugging and over-sucking. I know one day I’ll look back and miss it. (But today? Is not that day.)
