As Naomi passed the 11-month mark last week, the biggest news is probably that she went on a nursing strike that just about sent her mommy into a spiral of sorrows (my nursing days are ooooooover. waaahhhhhhhh). And while I poke fun at her, I do understand that this is an emotional event. For one, it wasn't until the third child that nursing became more than a nourishment activity for both mommy and baby. For the first two children, all of that talk about the nursing experience "ensuring a maternal-infant interaction and closeness that facilitates a life-long bond" was pure poppycock. The firstborn had Venesa in pure survival mode. If it weren't for the blog, I don't think I could convince her that we had any fun that first year. Can you say whirlwind? And we got our money's worth with the second child. Man, she was just hard (was? what do you mean was?). It's a bit hard to enjoy the bonding part of it when your focus is on doing what you can to not strangler your child and put her up for adoption (oh, but we love you, darling Jasmine... really we do. You just need a sedative, my love). So, fast forward to the birth of the third child, and mommy has finally come into her own. Picture her sitting Indian style (wait... is it still PC to call that Indian style?)... eyes closed... arms extended to each side, bent at the elbows, with each index finger touching the matching thumb. Wooooo-sahhhhhh. I am mommy. Hear me roar. From white belt to black belt in mommy kung-fu. The nursing experience is now the pinnacle. And Naomi and Venesa have bonded and achieved the glow that made Bruce Leroy and Sho Nuf so famous back in 1985 (google it).
Did I make a short story long enough for you? In the end, Naomi did return to nursing (though with less frequency) but her teething-related nursing strike was the yellow card warning that the end is near and the sky will soon fall. I joked with Venesa because I think that she was more distraught at the abruptness of it all than anything else. Naomi just woke up one day and decided she had ABSOLUTELY NO INTEREST in breastfeeding (all caps used to express the level of disgust that she somehow managed to convey with her baby hand gestures and sour faces). And what ensued between her and Venesa reminded me of a high school break up that leaves both parties wondering what just happened (you don't break up with me... I break up with you!). In the end, everyone survived. No counseling necessary.
A few quick updates:
Last week, Naomi had a slice of pizza for dinner. That pretty much sums up her 11-month update. She's got her first chopper and will use it to eat through walls if you let her. She pretty much eats everything. No walking yet, but her balance is getting to where she can stand up and play with a toy with both hands without thinking much about falling. Sleeping? (sigh). That's a different story. It's amazing to read old blog entries about how Justin slept 11 to 12 hours each night at 12 months (8:30 to 8:30). We never realized that we had it so good. Truly sleeping through the night has eluded this one since birth. And while she doesn't necessarily have to be nursed when she wakes up (though that's the surest bet to get her back down in 5 minutes or less), it's still a wonder as to when we'll consistently get nights that she's not up 1, 2, 3 or even 4 times a night asking to be laid back down. We created this monster. We get that. Parental diligence and the ability to let her cry herself back to sleep at 1 am is now balanced by sharing a room with another sleeping child. Once must weigh the pros and cons of having one baby up versus 3 (which is also balanced by the pros and cons of letting her take longer naps in the day time to have one less child to manage during homeschool hours). And such is life. Trade offs. And as Naomi turns one, we are preparing ourselves to trade our last infant experience (biological, anyway) for another crazy toddler. Two wardens. Three inmates. And they are now positioning themselves to take over the asylum. Let the drama unfold.
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