I’m feeling a bit emotional and off balance right now. I’m trying to wean my 11 month-old baby Summer. I feel ready to do it but I’m completely unready to do it. I want to let go but I don’t want to lose our thing. Because you know, it’s what we do. She nurses. I watch “Gossip Girl.” We’re connected. We’re happy. And I fear the moment she stops nursing, she will transform from this sweet, magical, butter cream cupcake into a ranting, irrational toddler. Tell me it’s not true. I probably won’t believe you.
As a result, everything is unsettling me. Summer climbed onto Dylan’s activity table, fell off and whacked the back of head. She recovered and quickly refocused on trying to capture a piece of Dylan’s Halloween candy that was just out of her grasp. But I was still rattled. And I could not believe my husband Rick was so calm about the whole thing. I mean, shouldn’t he join my hysteria?! SHE FELL OFF THE TABLE. I KNOW SHE’S FINE NOW BUT I’M STILL WORRIED.
This past weekend, I unintentionally insulted someone that I admire and my upset continued long after my apology was accepted. I’m bothered by Abby’s descent into an alcoholic tailspin. Um.. that’s Abby from “ER.” That’s right – the fictional television show. Really, I gotta buck up. What is my problem? 3 year-old Dylan is starting to have some competition for the title of “craziest person in the house.”
I guess it’s always hard to see the baby fade away. And Summer is not exactly championing this weaning thing. The girl hates milk – any milk that doesn’t come from my breast. I even went against every organic bone in my being and added artificially flavored strawberry syrup to the whole milk. It was DE-lish. I could drink a pint of it. It tasted about 10 thousand times, actually make that 40 thousand times, better than breast milk. Summer? Speak to the hand. Not going there sista. Thanks for trying. Maybe she’s holding out for a chocolate milkshake.
I remember when I stopped nursing Dylan at a year-old, I was melancholy for a few days and then I just felt so free. My body was wholly and completely my own again. So a little freedom will feel good. Won’t it? Tell me it’s true. I promise to believe you.
By the way, if you’re counting…
3 days til Wednesday’s Project Runway debut. My obsession for this show is deep. Every season, I’m convinced that I can be the next Cynthia Rowley despite the fact that I’m A) not on the show, B) don’t know how to sew and C) have never designed anything. Of course, I’m still hoping to be an Olympic ice skater too, so big dreams die hard.
7 days since the writer’s strike started. Oh people, just hammer something out. And then the writers can scribe a riveting movie of the week on all the drama in the back room negotiations. Or just go back to writing smart, clever commentary for Jon Stewart. Oh, I miss that man. He’s just not the same in repeats.
and 17 days since I ordered the Pilates core work-out DVD. Still unopened.