My Tater is teething. This is one instance where I'm glad he can't nurse. He chews on everything.
Also, I decided to wean. Translation: Pumping nearly four hours a day is driving me batty and switching to formula sounds like a well-deserved vacation. It was a really hard decision to make. I think for my sanity, I've got to stop pumping.
But as I've finally vocalized it and drastically reduced my milk supply this week, I'm realizing that my Squdge (not the one pictured) has allergies. His face looks just like my Gabbers face looked at the same age. And when tested, we found out she was allergic to e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.
She couldn't have
or berries either.
Or any of the latex foods.
Her allergy doctor advised me to nurse her until she was two. And that was the plan. But I got pregnant with Bun when Gabbers was 14 months old. When she was 18 months she weaned herself because of decreased milk supply. Luckily by then, she had outgrown the soy allergies.
So ARGH. Dang you pump. I am sick of you. The best thing that has come from it, other than mother's milk, is my blogging has increased since figuring out the hands-free thing.
Aren't you glad?
What's on the menu for Valentine's Day? Fenugreek. Marshmallow root, Borage Oil, and Fenugreek.
I hate the way it makes me smell.