So this morning it became abundantly clear - ceasing breastfeeding is akin to being kicked in the chest by a sumo wrestler whilst recovering from breast implant surgery. I remember it killing last time too, but I kidded myself that the milk had mostly dried up anyway and that it would merely be a formality this time. WRONGO!
I hardly slept at all last night (is this what it feels like to be Dolly Parton?) instead groaning painfully on my back (and not in a good way) and cupping my heaving, rock-hard bosums. I mean they have to go down sometime non? And yet they seem to just be getting bigger and bigger, harder and harder, that i feel if Dumps even get a whiff of them he'll attack me in crazed frenzy and get sent away till he's seventeen!
Yesterday I did something I haven't done for a long while - take public transport with the monsters. I got rammed heavily in the shins by a crazy woman with buggy who snuck herself on through the back doors just before they slammed shut - even though the two-buggy allotment was already taken by myself and another lady. So this woman wedged me in, blocked off the only exit for the bus and caused great havoc among the passengers for the three -odd stops before she unceremoniously exited - taking her dirty track bottoms, greasy ponytail, and a lot of ill will off with her.
Then of course Dumps used this brief respite as opportunity to kick off in his buggy and INSIST i sit him in the seat beside me. He started letting out crazy random screams - just because he could - and also no doubt enjoyed the horrified reactions of strangers who simply couldn't believe that such a sweetly countenanced child could emit such blood-curdling sounds.
Of course I fed him all available snacks on hand, including raisins which by this time were no longer used to fill his little brown round belly but rather whipped into fellow passengers laps and hair. I stared sternly at Dumps and gave him a rather public talking to (like most mothers this was for my benefit only - not his - as we both knew who was in charge here).
Now as i type I smell the overwhelming scent of garlic, and sure enough, Egg and Dumps are peeling it and smearing it all over themselves and the kitchen. If they are not careful (especially Dumps) they could be mistaken for a rather succulent lamp chop and sauteed in a pan accidentally.
I have no idea what today holds, but Egg is clamoring for his beloved morning cartoons now while garlic-coated Dumpie, having filled his pants...again... pole dances on the kitchen table beside me (yes we have a pole sticking out of it which is his favourite place to climb onto and jiggle about while music plays).
Think it's time for my morning double skinny wet cappucino made lovingly by myself for myself. Nothing like a little self-love to get the ball rolling on a Wednesday morning...a gloriously sunny one at that. It's a shame I am not already in Daytona as I'd be sure to win a wet t-shirt contest today with these babies I'm sporting. 'All you can drink beer' and a few wolf whistles from baseball cap wearing thugs would be a novel way to start the day....'beats poo-duty' anyway.
P.S. in the 60 seconds it has taken to post this, Dumps has upturned a huge pan of water all over the kitchen counter...it's cascading everywhere and he is delightedly clapping his hands while Egg laughs uproariously...he loves an appreciative audience does our Dumps...