I just want to declare it loud and proud for the whole internet to know:
I am the Queen of Reproductive Cycle Tracking. The Queen. Because here is what happened when I tried to track my fertility as crunchy, natural birth control method:
Yes. The very first month, totally knocked up. Thrilled, yes, but not so much with the on-purpose. And what happened when I counted on my calendar last month and saw that wooHOO I was all good for the beach trip? Oh yeah. Got my period. In a serious, heavy, crampy way. It was the last day, though, so it wasn’t a disaster. The worst part was the ribbing from Bu about my apparent crippling inability to make sense of a fucking calendar. The best part was that it showed up immediately after we were caught in a downpour in Savannah while I wore a white gauzy skirt:)
Bu shot it from the hotel window. The Photoshopping I did was genius in the water… not sure it improved the part with us. *Shrug* That’s why he’s the photographer. I just play.
OhMahGoddess look what I found:
So, now that I have looked at this and made googley eyes at it and did not burst into tears, we know that I am definitely OK with weaning:) Seriously, if there were any doubts I would have just died. It does sorta make me have new baby lust. But only a little. Look how Tiny Newborn Bird is almost crushed under Giant Mommy Boob Which is Packin’ Lots of Reglan Assisted Milk Supply. And look how she really did have mommy-like hair for a week or so:) Look how great her latch is with her poor ittle freshly-clipped tongue.
I’m ovulating, which OK yeah, intensifies the primal baby-wanting that my brain has officially duct-taped and pad-locked over. (My uterus responded last night by sending a dream that I was hugely 40+ weeks pregnant with a baby boy.)
It’s adorable, because Molly has just become obsessed with playing baby. She brings me blankies (Bang-Bang) and has me swaddle her up tightly then rock and make google eyes over the tiny sweet baby. Tonight she had a late bath and then demanded “Bang-Bang!! Beh-Bee!!!” I swaddled her in my favorite quilt and brought her to say night-night to Daddy. We each took a turn holding and rocking the little baby, then she lay with me, still a tight little Molly burrito, and nursed to sleep.
It was like when she was this baby:
(Same quilt even!)
Cross-posted at Wabi Sabi Mamas, which has yet to officially launch but is being updated:
So in my newfound Nowness I have found that Molly is absofuckinglutely adorable between the little mini-tantrums. I have laughed a lot with her this week. In other elephant news, we saw Horton Hears a Who, and it was fabulous. She had fun and was “easy” that day. We took a three year old sorta-niece too, and they were very BFF. This means there are two kids that she will play with relatively drama-free. Awesome development.
Nursey photo, just because it’s adorable and there are no asshats from FaceBook or MySpace or LiveJournal here to poop on my boob parade. And speaking of poop, just minutes after this snapshot was taken, the Birdy walked up to me going “Ew! Blech!” with one eensy finger outstretched. I thought, “Booger!” but no. Was poop. She musta gone digging very carefully, because there was nary a smudge or smear outside of the nicely contained mess in her diaper.
I can has potty trained kid plz?