Breasts, Glorious Breasts

I realized I had sunk to new lows this morning in bed when I sleepily gave Egg permission to take Dumpie downstairs and 'play' while I slept. Jay was showering at the time and yelled out,

"Do you really think it's a good idea to send the boys downstairs unsupervised?!"

Umm. Yes i did think it was a good idea. I would have allowed them to boil an egg on the stove unsupervised if it meant I could snatch a few more minutes of desperately needed sleep.

Before you condemn me, let me explain my current predicament. Dumpie is addicted...addicted to me...well actually he's addicted to my breasts. There, i've said it. Instead of slowly weaning himself OFF the breast, he has done a u-turn and now I find my mammaries in demand 24/7. It's relentless and it's taking over my life.

A typical 24 hours goes like this: bedtime (feed)...middle of the night (feed)...early dawn (feed)....breakfast (feed)...late morning (feed)...lunchtime (feed)....mid-afternoon (feed)...early evening (feed)...dinner (feed)...and then the cycle begins all over again.

Not only are my poor breasts suffering from over-exposure, but all my lovely bra's have been bent out of shape given that i long ago (optimistically) threw out all my nursing bra's and now have to wrangle with straps and bows and wire and elastic constantly - just to feed the hungry little beast.

I had a eureka moment this morning when I surveyed my darling little munchkin who at the time was sat quietly behind me in the bathroom, surrounded by a pile of tampon wrappers, trying to bite the actual tampons in half after having liberated over a dozen of them in the misguided notion that they were sweets. He grinned at me, flashing his 100 watt smile, then glanced down at my chest, stood up and waddled over to me hands outstretched headed for his..well, his bits.

It suddenly dawned that my breasts are HIS. Unlike Egg who formed an early alliance with one particular brown bear early on (and to this day still conducts most of his daily duties with 'Bacon' in tow), Dumpie has never particularly cared for or taken notice of the multitude of inanimate stuffed animals which litter his nursery. Why would he when he has such a superior substitution?

Embarrassingly, he's lately taken to stroking the other breast lovingly whilst nuzzling contentedly, and even if i try and cover his ever-expanding frame with a jumper or shawl, there is still the small problem of his fat chubby wrist protruding up towards my neck - making people wonder whether it's an over attached toddler or perhaps a horny little dwarf (or 'little person' as i believe they like to be called these days) wreaking havoc below.

So you see, I realize now that i'm dealing with more than just the problem of trying to wean an attached baby from his beloved breasts. By cutting Dumps off I shall in effect, be ripping his 'teddy bear' from his arms, tearing it in shreds, and shoving it piece by piece down the toilet as he looks on sobbing and inconsolable. I hardly suspect there is a blanket or bear anywhere in the world which is going to compensate for such a loss. I also suspect that high necklines and loose fitting blouses are going to be the order of the day for the next little while.

It hardly bodes well that I'm off on a beach holiday later this week. That should be interesting.